The Poet...

Poetry, prose and a punch in the nose
all have the power to pause one
Or cause one to stop and think for a bit;
to reconsider
or at least
recover from the hit.

I give you Poe for your perusal
Is he a left jab, or what?!
The bells, bells, bells, bells keep ringing
til one's brain is fairly singing
to the rhythm of his verse
and what's worse...

He lifts you up with pathos
and macabre celebrations
of all the darker things.
Poe plummets us down to the depths
Of our psyche
Sets us up with the left
And buries us with the right
In the middle of the ring with blood and gore
But leaving us wanting more, more, more.

The poet takes his pleasure, gloves or nay
In the sweet science of thrilling his prey.



Learn more about this author, Boxer Wyze.