Poet Identity
Poet Identity
In conversations,
In biographies,
In resumes…all poets are writers,
but not all writers are poets.
On a careful look into the mirror, when not looking
for wrinkles, but staring deep into the reflected
Image as if it were a stranger’s face,
And the stranger might hold
“those” secrets, the secrets of life
Unknown to us…
Might identity be seen in the vibrant iris? Colorful….
the place of treasured revealing,
thought a doorway to the identity,
But an individual…
A poet, a poet truly,
Perhaps from birth,
As willed, as created, as endowed, born
perhaps with
some more easily noted characteristics
like having brown eyes; good arches for ballet;
an aptitude for languages; a heart filled with
compassion; and a lovely singing voice.
Such traits contribute to the identity of a
Poet, too, but especially, a poet will have a prevalent
Ache — from needing to communicate
the messages, visions, memories, feelings,
witticisms, stories, and more.
The poets write, speak, sing, compose
Holding a “child’s “senses of wonder and
delight” — which may puzzle or annoy others;
Holding a drive to answer that distinct
calling of the Inner Voice;
Holding the soul, the seeking and touching God,
The awe-worthy source of Creating
— ideal to many poets, living so
close to definitions, perceptions, feelings,
and seeing underlying currents;
Holding a respect and fascination for words, their
combining, their potential, their rhythms,
their music;
Holding the history of poetry, to continue on from
past generations: with the drive for self-
expression, as if writing those poems of
excellence
Will place our handprints on a Lascaux cave wall
beside our Paleolithic cousins;
Holding a bond with trees, flowers, seas,
the moon and stars (the dear stars!),
in identifying with and loving Nature;
Holding the All as precious, with an exchange of
cues of illumination in a dance
with the collective sub-conscious;
Holding the presence and mysteries of
inspiration, and purpose, as might be seen in a
corollary drawn between poets and bees. The
bee who pollinates the apple tree then returns to
the colony to further
the process of making honey, which helps to
feed the world.
As poets work to communicate
With readers and listeners,
Their translations of life
in the penning and speaking, reaching,
Singing abroad the Inner Voice
To the community, then
To venture forth to the
still thirsty, still hoping for a word,
Gatherings in the wider, open
Regions of a blessed humanity,
Working one to all
over an Earth being restored…people
Standing joyful before the heavens
Aiming for accomplishing goals
of hoped-for excellence,
Of which coming generations of poets
will speak.
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(c)sally young eslinger 12/22
Thanks be to God
Copyright © Sally Eslinger | Year Posted 2022
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