The poet

This, did I not ask,
for.

to be a poet

not like a violinist,
or pianist.

A talent, to be selected,
and matured.

It is imposed,
when it comes.

This newness,
this muze.

It comes to me,
unapposed.

Like the morning rain,
to the flowers.

The mouse seeking,
for the cat

This then does,
feed my soul.

*C.S. lewis said as an atheist his search for God was like the mouse's search for the cat. "Surprised by Joy"

-- 

Steven Bassett

Luv is a verb

This new word, com'th to me.

This verb, this new thing,
that comes to me now.

Is it naught?,
this new thing,

How to do it,
Not.

This thing, this new thing.

It is painful, and with it comes growth.

When I choose it, we both grow.

This thing to come,
years now.

When it does, I am greatful,
for the gift.

We share, now.