Ask Me What It Takes To Be A Poet

Ask me what it takes to be a poet: Staying true to life's distorted angles, Strike your tender skin with welts and only Then caress a stranger's soul with anguish. Ask me what it means to be a poet - Sing about the freedom, tell your story. If a nightingale repeats its warble - It's because a bird can feel no sorrow. And a canary that apes its betters - Is a pitiful and useless bauble. Sing uniquely, find your tunes and letters, Even if you croak instead of warbling. Lied Mohammed when forbidding spirits In his Holy Book. When grief's approaching, If you are a poet - write your lyrics, Drink your wine, and bravely face your tortures. When a poet goes to his beloved And discovers her in bed with yet another - He will bring no knife and, undercover, He won't pierce the heart of his beloved - But, in jealous fever, he will whistle Heading home, with conscience crystal-clear: "Doesn't matter - let me die a gypsy Vagabond. It's hardly new, my dear."