Do Poets Hunt?
Do poets hunt?
Trapping words in their nets
Plucking the best
Throwing the rest
With a kiss for later
Do they scour the seas?
With ravenous eyes
Only to drown in meter waves
Do they climb the highest peaks?
Race through buttercup vales
Pass a thousand souls
Who pick at their scabs?
That weep blood for rhyme
Until they are scarred
Will time test
Show favour to a vacant mind
When dry words choke
The most eager smith
Until the rain returns
And stanzas flow like rivers
The poet reborn
And everything in the world is right once more
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