Of Poets and Gates...

The innocence of your staid stance

Vexes poets; for a glance

Is all it takes to stir the brakes

Cleaving to thought’s unbounded lakes

Darling, silk silence can beguile

With nothing more than hint of smile

And I’m a beggar plagued by yen

Of what is hidden in a pen

...and did you know your tinctured flow

Rends where only a word can go?

Yet there you lie and here am I

Taunted by your impassive ply

Tidal-vein of hurricane

Paradigm of parting’s pain

Doggerel of dying dream

Sealed in soulful ink-requiem

Darling, do you sense the storm

Cradled in your guile-less form?

Pen; oh, plain, persuasive gate

Where ten-thousand poems wait

© Janet Martin