The job of a poet to let the poems write

To get out of the way despite your fright

The poems are a gift from far away

Coming through the poet writing is the play


The opposite of work no task for the brain

Just transcribe the thoughts be they sunny or rain

The mystery of origin so readily clear

They come from a place both so far and near


Looking at the poems that write themself

I ask myself what do they reflect

Seeking to express an essence so pure

They cut to the heart of what we want more


Economical language landing where you live

Intended to pierce making you want to give

No longwinded verbose or curlicue flowery prose

Listen to the oracle take heed from one who knows


When you are done as writer or reader

I hope your taste is a bit sweeter

A life lived closer to your core

Shares gifts of experience that provide so much more


Have you ever tried writing poetry?

What was the experience like for you?

Did you have the courage to share it with a friend or a bigger audience?

How did they respond?

How did that make you feel?

– Stewart Levine ©

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Categories:   Poems


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