Who knows what's is in
A poet's heart-it could be
Rainbows and candy apples
Ferris wheels or Topsy Turvys
Enough to make the head
Spin while the heart remains
Untouched.
Yet, mostly, it seems
That poet's dreams are harder
Things that bite and snatch
And dance a Saint Vitus
Even as it dies under a pen.
Don't peek, it's not
Nice. Let the poet
Speak. Let the poet
Dream, and mostly,
By request - Let
The poet scream.
Charlotte Ballard
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poet-s-heart-5/
