Poet

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The words start slowly
The lubrication of my pen
Seeps and oozes from
The honeycombed cells
Of my union with Her

Letters dance in the
Hall of love’s splendour
The music of an orchestra
Of souls wraps magically
Around my heart

Publishers search for
The era’s giant standard
Here and now, I am who am
Again, deny me
Deny me, deny me

Rhythm, cadence, stanza
Building passion, sheer
Ejaculations of meaning
Catching the light of
Daring reflectivity

In the beginning
Was the Word
In the end, Their
Will be, the Word
There willed be, where tilled.

©AJDettman 13/12/13
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About Andrew Dettman

Counsellor, poet, cabbie, diction worker. Ministrant.
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2 Responses to Poet

  1. it looks like the drain Andrew – I love those drains they are like little time out spots in Hull. used to like the one up sculcoates lane before it gets to bankside. Swans there and travellers too.

    Like

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