The Day I Met A Poet!

Oh, how blessed the day I met him, A poet so he was! A guy with thoughts up to the brim, Though sometimes at a loss... A wondrous walking lexicon Of words beyond my ken, With arguments to build upon, Like who and how and when... And could he talk? My word, he could! I've never known his like, So loud across the neighbourhood, He didn't need a mike... And my, oh, my, the clothes he wore! The dirt upon his shoes! As if to clean was such a bore, Decidedly bad news... But when reciting poems fast, He held me in his sway, Sometimes transfixed to stare aghast, Sometimes not choose to stay... Yet still I stayed, as if to learn, Absorb his energy, His vibrant voice helped me discern Each twist and turn to see... Then he'd explain his characters, His heroes, foes and more, His maidens of his Universe, Their beauty, thus his awe... The girls he'd met while in his youth, The love affairs and such, Perhaps not always quite the truth, They numbered way too much... Yet oh, the tales, the tall tales told, Backed up with poetry, Enthusing still, as good as gold, Just to bamboozle me... Yet every now and then, what style, What elegance performed And every time I saw him smile, My thankful heart was warmed... From that day on, I chose to write And thus bid years adieu, To share my hopes and dreams each night With poets that I knew... And on we'd share such precious things, With insights borne of grace, As if right there, more wise than kings, Such treasures to embrace... I'd never trade those times for gold, For silver or the Earth, Because I've heard such stories told That rise above all worth... And to this day, I still stand tall, Though life would take its toll, To know that God has blessed us all Is priceless to my soul... Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2013.