What do poets do…?

Theres no such thing
As a writer’s pen
That you can borrow or buy
At discretionary times
You may tell yourself
You have joined the league
You may tell yourself
Everyone is in need
Of words to hide
And words to shadow
Of words to let go
Of words to keep safe
Cause people,
As they are,
Can write in pain
Can write in sorrow
Can write in love
Can write in vain
Can write when there is
Emotions flowing through
Each vein
But
What of those times
When you lose your way
When everything is just fine
When everyone’s gay
When all the nights
Are neither endless nor deep
When the words you say
Don’t hint at a story
Or hide that love
That grieved and ached
When there is nothing
You can talk about
When there are no endings
Or beginnings so profound
What then would you say
Without emotions to pursue
What then would you say
Poets actually do…?

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4 thoughts on “What do poets do…?

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