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Poem
I am the wind 
beneath the 
sparrows wings 
as it heavenly sings.
I am the single rose 
sitting in a barren land.
I am the the lions voice,
and the partridge voice as they 
rejoice. 

I am the beam of light 
penetrating the vastness
of the worlds darkness.

The secret power is 
no secret,the secret 
power is me.

I am the secret power revealed
and concealed in greatness.
I am the suns majestic flames.
The clarity of rain drops,
the zest ,to the minds
bland thoughts of boredom.
I am entertainment.
I am the wood pecker,
soaring steadily in the
balmy winds picking at success.
I am the eagles soaring over
sweet allysum, capturing the sent. 

Stupendous I am,
Preening my mind with knowledge,
a pen rigged with wisdom,
wisdom speaks beyond paper 
as it leaks from the pore of my quill.
I am the potion full of devotion. 
My pen rigged with morphine,
killing I hope the pain of my readers 
with poems.

You are no longer lugubrious,
lugubrious you are not.
Healed and fixed upon the first dosage.

I am ,I am ,
I am the poetic doctor,wooing medicine 
from the green pastures,
 to robe my pen with healing secrets.
I am the nectarines of peach orchards
 basting the mouth of pages with sweet words.
Sweet splash sweet splash. I am the sweet taste. 
I am the revival of a sun baked raisin, the
 revival to a corps laying beneath circling 
vultures of the Arabian dessert. 
I am the fragments of light circling your heart,a campfire,
the supplier of its poetic aspire. 
I am the fridge for poetic dreams,
preventing from expire, raising 
heat of poetry soup higher and higher. 

Ill never retire until my face
 wrinkled and my hair grey wire.
My pen aiming for a writing desire. 
On icy roads I keep traction with 
hot ink and mental snow tires.
I am a poet wrobed with 
creative ink and sapphire.
I am safe gaurding the gates
 of a dying world of poetry.

looked upon as a fool why should I stop, 
because kids from high school saide iam not cool,
what is their some rule that makes it uncool.
It must be april fools ,safe guarding 
your desire is a golden rule.
I am the hope, iam poetrys stool fueling
 it with my hand tool full of ink iam the talisman of poetrys gates.
I know who I am and this inspires ME!!!

By: Elliott Bowe
Inspirational Contest
Sponsor:Gail Doyle
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