Somewhere a solitary prisoner, like me
Begins to create the words of new dialogue
To appease some slice of soul
And if I no longer exist, you do
By doing what you love, writing
These citizens in private flight
A ritual of fire, guitar, tablecloth
Poetry is the easiest thing
It writes itself, like mouthfuls of sunlight
The poem creates a loving order
Executing words for fields of poetic justice
There is no room for nostalgia
Creation is a slave to change
Everything must yield to new worlds
And you know it as well as I do:
Every poem is fulfilled at the poet’s expense
Fountains of transparency, nothing like music
Will speak through my mouth, only
A sensitive center of a counter-point of blood
Where history woke to move, poetry came into being.
Art courtesy of: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Aqualegia-468477784
Wuji Seshat 
You will be read and remembered. You do write to the future – you do share the “sum” of the old with future generations – you share your love, angst and concern for “shift” you’re living through – and your burning desire to capture it all in words shines as brightly as the sun.
As I guess we all do (: thanks for your comment.
and WHY isn’t there an edit button to ix a typo in a comment? 😀
That’s a good question!
It’s so true that poetry writes itself. We poets only attune to what is already there
I’m glad you appreciate the sentiment, universal mind is a clever technology.
Poetry has woken my soul, a gift from another poet… You see poetry is shared in many new and wonderful forms, however truly a gift from a heart…
Poetry does seem to be a passion that is quite immersive, it’s capacity for emotional and spiritual prosperity is unique.
i really have no clear understanding of poetry, or even the fact i call my own writing poetry. It seem in my eyes every piece is unique in every way…
What poetry has been done for me is sidetrack my thoughts, helping to keep society off my back…
Same reasons i stay in the alleys of the city i live in…
yes I can relate to that, it’s a great sanctuary of sorts.
What truth. Harsh yet beautiful.
I’m not sure I’ve written anything harsh in my life, but the experience of being a poet has certainly been so.
That’s exactly what I meant. The words are beautiful and the price is harsh. I’m glad you understood that. Apparently your writing effected my communication skills. 🙂
Beautiful!
Mouthfuls of sunlight. I will taste this line all day.
I will try too, I just went out and the slant of light is pretty yummy…