The Poet's Reality

Originally, this poem was inspired by the screen name of a very kind soul I crossed paths with back in 2003. Her name was a blend between "poetry" and "reality". I still don't think she's read this.

We may appear pensive,

Introverted and living frugal;

Another ordinary human...

Yet, fountains of creativity

Stem from frigid, frothy oceans

Filled with abyssal passion

With our wicked utensils

And an abundant imagination,

Diction is subjected to our will

Emotions play across faces

That at first glance appears

Plain, desolate and arcane

Look deeper, into our eyes;

Memories gone by flash past

While hope still brightly twinkles

Shapeshifters and dreamers,

Rulers of kingdoms yet unseen

Creates our demographic scheme

Students of the malleable word,

Eternally enthralled by a pen,

Form eloquent concepts in the mind

Rhetoric rivers pour from us

During the moments we may speak;

Melodies inflect our airy voices

No boundaries of age or color,

Gender or economic disparity

Divide the bonds forged between us

Working parents, child prodigies;

All of us are one and the same entity,

Bound in spirit by a verbose muse

The poet's reality is kaleidoscopic;

Although our lives are quotidian,

Humdrum beings we certainly are not!

Author's Note

This is a rather old poem I decided would be a good start to my tenure on this site. I may not take suggestions to change it since I am a very recalcitrant poet and tend to do all of my editing while writing or shortly thereafter. However, I welcome any reviews. Comment at will.