The Poets Tree

A respectful musing on some great poets of the past

sometimes I sit beneath The Poets Tree

where legends linger, not yet me

their passage earned with words so pure

their names etched in, their place assured

Byron, Tennyson, Burns and Poe

I feel their words course through my soul

they bring me comfort when I am alone

lost in my mind ~ where poems grow

breathing deep their scent floods in

my senses ache from deep within

of powerful imagery, rhythm and rhyme

lost in their words from another time

if I dare to look up, perhaps I will see

a new green shoot, that may one day be me

Poetryman

Copyright © 2011 by Mike Sutcliffe

Author's Note

Any feedback welcome