Thursday, April 29, 2010

Hidden Child

Suitcase, black stilettos, crisp

Perfect posture stands

Holding an ice cream cone

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when language like bubbling streams flow

when words are laid down to fit like lovers' hands

when you feel the essence of the poet from within

when swirling thoughts are caught in the net of rhythm

when images reel as you read

when pen and paper create a symphony

then, it is poetry