Tammy Darby

October 21, 1957
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So birthed are the ones called poets

Unique in all the world
It was not their faces they wished others to see
The fineness of their garments, stones on their hands
Or the color of their eyes ever watching and so keen

But instead admired for their words
Honed craftiness with a letter
Wishing their dreams and emotions to be heard
Reality to them was of no matter.

Speaking with a thousand thoughts
In place of warm lips
Imagination being the deep well
From which they must often sip

Displaying without reservations in ink
The ebb and flow of the universe
In its spender and erupting bloom
Some would write of woes of man or others
The ever-changing costumes of the sun and the moon

For you they will render with delight
The many colors of the talking hard barked trees
The black sands of sapphire covered beaches
And the aqua green blues of frothy salty seas

Mirrored luminous bubbling minnow filled brooks
Boulder edged churning roaring rivers
As ever dark ones reside among us lest we forget
Ghosts from tales of terror to make you shiver

The endless canvas their minds
Colluding and colliding with their pens
The splintered thoughts converge exploding
And the eccentric process begins.
So birthed are the ones called poets
From times beginning to its end.

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby January 15, 2022.
All Material Stored in Author Base.
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