Land of Poets

[Additional piece to a joint writing entitled LAND OF POETS A REALITY by Donald Kuutsi, Blessing Masora, Sithole Albert and Pardon Simango] Like the deep I dwell in such places faraway far, Too soon amid the nears far, Where I serve up the gremlin star, Without task or promise But words paddling across my mind like a neonatal regal Parr To interlace logically into wily arrays Which when you read lead line by line It makes more sense the phrase, I fissure with my absent hammer like Thor And the words bleed out through the crevices To run with running streams And replenish parched minds with a little bit of who I really am, Some will say spoken word! But my mouth is sealed; I didn’t say a thing! Some will say my revered pen seeped its ink on clean pages But my hand is innocent; I didn’t write a thing! I only dwell in such places faraway far, Too soon amidst the confines of poetry’s stable traces, A one-off, matchless world here; I see fabled beings as well new faces Called together by a calling undeniable; A shared interest! To tell a famous telling of who we really are, Some will say spoken word! But our mouths are sealed; we didn’t say a thing! Some will say our writing implements leached ink on pure sheets But our hands are innocent; we didn’t write a thing! lETpoetry