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Created on: October 01, 2009 Last Updated: November 21, 2011
Common Genius
Most envision the world, part and parcel exposed
To the masses, conformed, uninspired
When involving original thought juxtaposed
To the natural way that things are
While rare gifts of mental capacity threaten
To broaden and stretch what is known
Some seem not to understand and compromise
To remain in the crowd, yet alone
The issue is not that ideas may form
A fine work that someday may become
The lauded creation of one's own experience
Wealth and fame though they may come
For how fleeting the praise of man upon the ears
Of the one motivated by noise
Yet the artist composing his work from the heart
Will find joy in his labor of choice
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Poetry: Poets
Poet's Hands
Nonsensical these words that constant flow
As dewdrops from the morning sun
In whispers through the warming air
In elevated composition mostly in the abstract
from fact to non-fiction, light, grays, blues and blacks,
greater spirits shared
together, she was;
together, she was
an impression,
she is still
underneath is what
i am after
is it skill?
i really am
not certain
The Poet
The poet searches
for words, for rhyme
amidst church steeples
and dunghills,
in love's first kiss
and in the heartbreak
Voice
i am but a child myself...
one of many children
of the soil of this earth.
and with dirty fingernails
i've crawled this
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