The Poet's Poem

the poet's poem,
the part of his body,
most precious of all....
he cant live without.

boxed up and wrapped,
presented as a gift
to the passing stranger
whose lips a 'quiver!

in word, in paint,
in carpenter fashion....
built as if a home
for the orphaned soul...

or potatoes and milk,
laid out on the table,
for the guests of both
this world and that!

or a blanket given
on some lonesome corner,
to the cold and shivering
face you cannot remember....

or a man on a cross,
misunderstood, maligned....
showing by action,
calling for action....

the poet's poem,
no charge other than
the price demanded by mirror,
the echo of your heart!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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