QUIET STORM 2

 

The calmness just before the storm

Wandering if you

Should be alarmed

From the sight, instead

Hold on to something

There’s a storm coming ahead

The mark of a good poet

Is leaving you wanting more

Can’t wait to see the next one

As the last piece shook your core

Reading with such attention

And not to mention

The chill and vibration

Surging through you

An unforgettable sensation

You don’t want to lose

Poetry moves and shakes

Things awake

And with words kinetically thrown

That once you’re in its in grasp

It’s just too late

To send you home

The energy is flowing

And seeks to never be alone

This weather cannot be predicted

Or seen before arrival

Poetry is the gate in red

That allows for lyrical travel

Switching to green

When you become its landing

And soon to unravel

That which was never seen

Nor heard

Poetry can be mysterious

With many vibrant words

That tends to surge

Straight through the poet’s

Very being

And allowing it to take him or her

Wherever it is leading

To help create the next masterpiece

This storm is evident

As the literary winds increase

And refuse to cease

Until it has run its course

Poetry is written words

With an iconic voice

Paying homage and odes

To the art form itself

And poets are full of this passion

Never wanting to be anywhere else

Except acquiring the nearest pen

And begin

To conduct a written symphony

That has no end

Unconventional as oppose to the norm

Because poets and poetry are

Are on another level

On a mission for more than several

And busy becoming the next swarm

That will develop into

Another quiet storm

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Where writing comes alive

Writings By MCM

 

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