Come daybreak

He sits, his senses stir with words

Words he often uses, now reinvented

Reinvented to form new poems

Poems of a different hue

A rainbow colour of words

Colour to brighten a dull dark morning

Morning, a time when ideas visit

Visit to the sound of a different drum beat

Different strokes for different folks

For that is what keeps the mind from decaying

Decay, not part of his vocabulary

Vocabulary, enlarged by what he cannot hear

Sound can engage the mind

Mindful of this into his leather chair he sits

He sits, his senses stir with words.

© Chris Black. November 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~

#Poetry #amwriting

 

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