We Once Were Poets

We once were poets

young spirits gazing through scruffy faces

and shiny glint eyes

allowing the muse to scream

with reckless abandon

as her song echoed

through our hearts

through our minds

through our fingers

as we bled our inken souls

onto whatever scratch of paper we could find.


Oh the life my heart knew

when its beat was felt

through my chest

through my mouth

through my fingers

and out my toes

it is such a treasured day

where I bear occasion

to feel that way again


When the song of the Wind

the rhythm of Earth

the melody of Water

the percussion of Fire

the voice of God

in the silence between them

blending the arrangement

into an orchestra

so mighty

and subtle

that it sometimes


and is often




Sometimes on a lazy Sabbath

when a light shines through

from a torch in a hand

extending from the birth of creation

I am thankful that poets never die

they just stop writing.

Steve McAllister is the author of The Rucksack Letters and How to Survive an Estralarian Mind Meld. He posts regularly at InkenSoul.com, and sometimes posts at Anything Arts, Sarasota Music Scene, and Elephant Journal, and is currently the Director of Operational Development for the Common Wealth Time Bank in Sarasota, Florida. Follow him on Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube.


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