Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

write when your stomach growls,
feel the pangs of torment in your chest
the invisible fist to the breadbasket

scratch out the pictographs
in the swirling leaves above the picnic table
the tattoos electrified in thick azure air

write from the foundation of your time here
the fence posts augured into the rocky soil
write when your eyes are half-closed and fluttering

write with your brain wide-open to the disturbance
from a unsafe place inside the pacing tiger cage
when words come bubbling over the brim like latent lava

you know what I mean, you've had the the hands
of the scribe on your shoulder, the wake-up shake
that sets the fiery wagon to rolling down the hill

but you gotta make it happen, gotta set aside
a block of time to receive that shove from behind
jump into the bright red Radio Flyer, soon you'll be racing,

speeding towards the personal truth at the bottom

Courage has no breaks but a sand pit helps .Yes the poet is not just some one who has words , words have the poet and the night holds the words somtimes so close you can not tell them apart , true art is heart, and can not be reconciled by opinion.

excellent response leafsailor g........

brilliant piece. A piece for posterity - please let it out into the cosmos!

thanx judih...appreciate the compliment.... and encouragement