Inspiration – Poems for January

The world’s greatest poet
Decided to go for a walk.
Birds swirled with the clouds,
The sun curled inside
The pavement as he stepped
Through the morning.
“Are you working on another
Masterpiece?” But the poet
Did not answer, only smiled
And continued on. Through
The park, the grass rose
To meet him. “Excuse me,”
The tiniest blade asked,
“What is it going to be about?
Love, death, breakfast?”
But the poet did not answer
And smiled, and left the grass
Behind. The sun slid
Into red, shadows curled
Between the buildings,
And the poet was still
Walking. Walking. “Hey,”
A voice popped-up from
The garbage bags.
“Where’s your poem,”
Asked one of the racoons.
“Where is it?” But the poet
Did not look and moved
Down the alleyway until
He found a hidden entryway
To a shady den donned
With graffiti and foul scents.
A shadowy face emerged
Before him with a faded glare.
“Well, hello again,” said
The face. The poet gulped.
“What do you need?” The poet
Struggled for his words.
“I need a line,” he said. “Or,
Just a few words. A phrase.
Anything!” The face twisted
A grin. “Aw, but a man
Of your talent? Tsk. Tsk.”
The poet’s eyes cast down
And the face continued
To grin and led him down
A hallway.

The creature in the corner,
Pile of flesh, an eye
Opening as the two entered.
The poet stared as the small
Creature sighed.
The poet approached it
Slowly, placed a hand
On the soft yellow flesh.
The creature moaned
And the poet’s eyes fell
Backward and everything dropped
Into a pit.

The poet woke-up
On damp ground.
The creature’s eye closed,
Drained once again,
The poet rose-up
And led out of the darkened room,
Out of the shady den, paid
The grinning face and stepped
Through the night. Foul.
Foul. But as he walked
He noticed the stars hovering
Above the rooves and soon
A few words seeped
Into his mind. He continued
And a poem started to glow
Before him. He got home
And the poem raced across
The page. Perhaps,
He thought, this would be
Another classic. He nodded
To himself and went to bed
And the day gazed its light
In his room, satisfied once more.

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