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The Leaky Pen Staff Bio: Taeryn
Poetry is manifold as the rainbow,
infinite colors colliding at high speeds
with you as the innocent bystander.
People ask the poetry,
just how they know it
just how they can find the right words
the right way to envision a scene.
As a person, a segment of people
I can wonder just the same
But deep inside,
I can feel the words grow
feel the pale glimpse of the muses
the heartbeat of phrases
I read some, learn some
Sometimes I even think some,
but my words have no need to think.
Logic is as poisonous to an author
as passion is promiscuous to humankind.
The larger the words
sometimes is better
Sometimes,
reading is an escape
written by me, happily running
hiding from the ideas
the ideals of this rat race
Poetry becomes my nature
a second slink to slink about in
I am shorn of mortal treachery
into eloquence, more powerful than rambling,
the stuff of my mind.
Poetry grows, like the veritable tree,
breathing into fruits and gifts
People let the ripe fruit fall
Splattering open with seeds bursting at the seams
People can’t treat poetry the same
They want their own
Tree, to view the labor come about
And beyond
I work in rhymes and phrases
each one as sure a beat as blood
pounding in insane rhythms
sent by the belovèd heart in images unknown
Who knows what mad thoughts can beguile
the mind? Minding your own business
is a sin unrivaled by common works
still
A poem makes sense to none but the writer
And none but the writer knows nonsense.
Prose or free verse, rhymes less with what I know
and more with what I want
And I want to share whatever small insight
The eyelids of society lifted
For pale glimpses of muses
04.13.2006
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