We the Poets

Scribble
Scribble,

We'll create lines and curves,
Circles and dots,
We'll let our heart
Ooze from the tip of our pencil.

Because that is what poets
Do.
You see

This world is ink,
And you...
Well you the paper

See we scribble,
And scribble.

We paint your arms
With metaphors
And wrap your torso
In rhymes and playful lines.

We the poets.
Exposing that ache
You have been avoiding,
Capturing that feeling
You could never really describe.

It's that one song
You listen to over and over,
That one passage
That you call your anthem.

Because you are the paper
That this world finds its connections.
A heart and some lungs,
Breathing through the ink,

Yes,
That is what we do,
We the poets
Expose the deepest of hearts...
Yours.
And the world's.

When all we are really trying to do,
Is find out who we are,
Try and find out
What our hearts are saying.

Silly poets
We scribble.
And scribble.
And suddenly the story
Isn't ours anymore,
It's yours.

Reviews

[Eric Darsie]

Awesome poem. We should have a "poem-off" sometime! Haha.

[Peter Joseph Swanson]

Love it!