Soul Cage of a Poet
In the heart and psych of every poetThe sharp scalpel of wit and observationSlices the beating heart in twoAs the Soul desperately tries to keepThe body poetic breathing vowelsThe cage carefully constructedTo imprison the octopus of impulsive thoughtsHas lost its bars The mollusk tasting freedom can nowRhyme romance better than NerudaHis three hearts pumping blue bloodCan weaken the knees of any spinsterResistant to decades of chocolates and flowers Eight tentacles grabbing words fromA myriad of languagesThe hot blooded Italians and SpanishThe persuasion of a French gigoloTo weave a disrupted poem of unequalColour and pace The little snippets of haiku fish bait finally enticeThe many limbs to climb back into the cageOf conformity and live a sad existenceOf safe couplets and smiles