My Brother The Poet
I hear the rainfall of many words,
by Scott W. Greenlaw
Like a rainbow of diamonds across a sea
Of crystal glass or an illuminating pearl,
The showers of jewels echo's my soul.
I am not a man of high stature that falls down low.
But I am a man full of song and rhythm.
The poets call, the poets fall...stand
Up straight this poet of mine,
A heart of heavenly symphony forever you will find.
They are the poets, eating the foods of experience
And drinking the wines of inspiration.
My heart, "oh poets heart" beat faster...
The deep's are overflowing,
The stirring of deepest woes and highest.
Highs, souring heights my spirits flies.
Coals press down, flashes of light,
My mouth has given birth tonight.
A river of gold to cross, a stream of silver to share.
A waterfall of lilies, my heart is not bear.
The sword of the poet: explosive, rerfreshing,
Affective, unpredictable, it is altogether fair
A galaxy stars shine within, it fosters tonoght
They are the ready writers of now and of yore.
They are my brothers the poets...