Poetry is like ripples in a placid pond,
Like a burst of inspiration…
Seize its beauty
before everything quietens down.
Nimble-footed, it barrels down
on you like a runaway train
Like the moment of orgasm
Like the glimpse of a beautiful face
in the milling crowd,
Like the flash of lightning
in the dark foreboding clouds;
It grabs you like a snare
Entangling like a spider’s web
Stinging like a wasp.
You would let it lead you astray,
You volunteer yourself into
a maze knowing you’ll get lost,
Like stepping into the rip current.
Like staring at a blank sheet of paper
unable to woo your muse,
Like getting fatally stabbed
and unable to die
Like painting your masterpiece
and running out of paints.
Like taking a dip in the flaming lava
and emerging fresh
like a well-watered lawn.
Poetry is the staple of the soul,
Elixir for the mind…
At once enticing and enthralling.
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