Words bleed from me,
Letters leave my body from open veins of creativity.
Sometimes jumbled, incoherent,
Into the aether they're sent, to be read or ignored. Augment
them, turn them outside-in,
anagrams or acronyms, with pride or chagrin
put your poetry out there.
Language is to be shared, embellished with flair.
Emotion translated into verse,
Eyes will traverse stanzas and then we converse
about what makes us really sad
or what makes us angry, or glad.
We realise that life is the best poetry we ever had.
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