Cam Black, the inimitable host of the Dan O’Connell Poetry event, asked me for a copy of this poem just recently. Not having had a look at it for a while I thought I might put it up here. Enjoy!
If poetry is fire
then consider this kindling.
This collection of expression inflames me
as these words spark ideas infernal
to make paper burn beneath the pen in my hand
If poetry is fire, I walk around town,
looking for a match.
If poetry is water,
then this is my ocean.
Surrounded in this flow of words,
washed in the tides of inspiration,
waves of speech streaming through my mind
If poetry is water, I think I may well drown
and die content.
If poetry is earth,
this is my terrain.
In amongst the hills and forests and
pleasant green lands, phrases shift tectonic
grinding the literal and verbal landscape.
If poetry is earth, every mote of dust
shall bear contemplation.
If poetry is air,
please listen to the sound of my breathing.