Poet Soup~

~brambled thoughts~

He peeled himself from the page

Maybe he was hungry for illumination

But all I had was poetry

He brought leaves for the pot

An offering

But I know everything depends on the type of flora we mix

Some are notoriously poisonous

While others dilate the mind

I told him

My mind dilates enough on its own

And offered him first taste

Of an alphabet soup that revealed each letter

In the complex system

Of the human being

The flavor did not lie

And he pushed it with the spices

But I am a wary rabbit in the headlights

And said

Then you write the story,

But be careful of getting all caught up in it

Poetry is a snare

It changes how one perceives everydays

He was not impressed

He was not rebuffed

The soup began to percolate

He peeled himself from the page

And caught my momentary attention

But could he keep it

Us poets are a fickle lot

Ain't we

 

 

copyright:2011vssmd/amusemusepress

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Author's Note

~musings~

Reviews

[MuSe Ampoule]

Very good to address the point that with poetry...pushing too much or adding too much for the sake of doing such things can spoil the creative soup and sour the taste with readers! As always your dancing in the fantasy, SOC, surreal gives this a whole and full bodied flavor!
"My mind dilates enough on its own"
"Us poets are a fickle lot
Ain't we"

Yup...very Clever white rabbit, very clever indeed!

[Ruth]

Selene, my love, you are a star! Those wanderings of the poetic journey are never simple, a blend of intoxication and head warps, a day changed, sometimes not for the better, and then BAM! We have the fact that we do exist in reality after all lol
Beautiful poem love, but then you know I adore your work! xx

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

Selene, this is , it is you and you write beautifully this one makes me feel like some try to hard, add too much .. love the title.. and the last lines of poet's fickleness..

Chloe

[Quinn Blackburn]

If by "fickle" you mean "mad as a march hare", then of course I agree :oD I think Alice (old school Alice, at that) said it best...

"I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!"

Thus is poetry so often born :o) Rather thoughtful piece, my dear, a touch pensive, mixed with your own salty wisdom and spicy style :o)

[Tina Kline]

The art of creation takes time and effort and often times keeps others at bay. This is fantastic. I love it!

[Bard Constantine]

Poetry has so many shades, so many slivers of shattered kaleidoscopes... perhaps the points of convergence for so many differentiating points of view is what gives it that magnetic appeal that keeps us coming back for repeated servings...

[Antonio Valentino]

We can be a coquettish heap that blows hot and cold can't we? But then that's a good thing yes. The last time I cooked with a wary wabbit I ended up with a hare in my soup.

Your poetry is a snare. Harvest your takings wild and tenderly.

Adore this.

[JelliFyshKissUs]

I believe it's because we suffer from ADHD>> LOL!>> That is why so many ideas bloom forth from our stems and we jot them down and present them so quickly>> And then there is always one poet that steals our hearts>> One we harmonize with>> But our attention is soon diverted and we are on to the next>> Sounds like relationships doesn't it?>> Ha!

[Jūdan FyreHeart]

Beautifully done as always. The musings of perception and ideas circling around our peculiar minds.

[LilyT]

Robin took the words right out of my mouth, or fingers.
(: