The Craft

(A lone voice speaks to a crowd of poets) You do know everyone has their own magical style A style filled with such wild illustrious promises and kaleidoscope's of such deep vivid depths For in poetry No stone is left uncovered, Ranging from life to death Whispers of love’s wild explosive adrenaline filled triumphs Everlasting hope or altarpieces of self-fulfillment Descents into darkness Opening portals to dimensions of festive destruction And at the core for the inquisitive The Red Flag The smiling frown Up or down The fire to ignite a curious reader's eyes to the soul That really matters Is the what Why and guile It's quite simple It's why everyone has their own magical style For there is no guide to the labyrinth of the mind When you enter poetry's smiling black and white turnstiles And line up to read or write With so many other groups of people who are still walking or standing still in history In single file (C) Copyright John Duffy