A Poem Is…

A poem is a dangerous concoction

Of soul, strength and wit

A poem is a beautiful accident,

That smells like charred midnight oil 

It is a tender marriage of human passion, and agony

Where tears and despair run like meandering streams

Across the paper; with language unable to contain

A poem is a long lost hum, snatch of a melody

That echoes within even the calcified heart

Of evenings bathed in sunset and wine,

And the silent smile of the streaked sky above.

A poem is not a carefully choreographed act,

Rather a glimmering constellation 

Of odd-fitting scribbles and bits of journal paper

All glued together to form a masterpiece,

One that glistens like a spangle stained in rainbow

Amidst the ocean of numb mediocrity.