Poems and Poets

For once in my life, I want to be a poem, Written with many metaphors, By a poet with a heart that flows Flowers of romanticism like the rivers That roar with devotion deeper than the oceans. I may never last forever, Immortalise me in your poem, I want to smile forever, I have had oceans of tears Splashing my heart And tearing me apart. Little less anaphora, Much more allusion, Refer not a rhyme or a rhythm, Let me be free, wild and witty, Just like the sunflowers smiling In sunbeams in those dreamy paintings, Let my hair be reckless like waves, My eyes serene like grey graves, My lips rosy like bleeding caves, My fragrance drowsy and dreamy like the dead poets. Can you write me like those burned up passionate pages in the night where the moon is just hanging low longing to be brought down in the grave glow of the cherry red candlelight. Please, please, Let me be a poem, Say yes, say that you will write me, Your glorious glass pen, Ingenious emerald ink Crunching on an aged, mushy parchment paper. My typewriter won't work, The ink on my fingers consumed me, I choked on my coffee, I am nothing but just shards of the coffee cup That kissed my mouth every morning With gardens and gloom, Brought a sparkle on my face That tends to bloom. I want to be a poem.