Poets

by Maria Kelly Poets are like magicians that pull verses out of the air like bouquets, each one as lovely and fragrant as a flower Poets are like mothers in labor to deliver inky black lines; their twitching hands like wombs, birthing rhymes. Poets are both teachers and students of life; their subjects are love and loss and sorrow and joy and strife. Poets are like oysters and their poems are like pearls; the words they hold in their souls change not themselves, but the world. They are all these things, and more, though they may not know it. You can be whatever you like, but for me: I think I’ll be a poet.