The Craft
(A lone voice speaks to a crowd of poets)
You do know everyone has their own magical style
A style filled with such wild illustrious promises and kaleidoscope's of such deep vivid depths
For in poetry
No stone is left uncovered,
Ranging from life to death
Whispers of love’s wild explosive adrenaline filled triumphs
Everlasting hope or altarpieces of self-fulfillment
Descents into darkness
Opening portals to dimensions of festive destruction
And at the core for the inquisitive
The Red Flag
The smiling frown
Up or down
The fire to ignite a curious reader's eyes to the soul
That really matters
Is the what
Why and guile
It's quite simple
It's why everyone has their own magical style
For there is no guide to the labyrinth of the mind
When you enter poetry's smiling black and white turnstiles
And line up to read or write
With so many other groups of people who are still walking or standing still in history
In single file
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
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