A poet is a verb that blossoms light
in gardens of dawn, or sometimes midnight.
From roots of nouns revered and legends told,
the leaves of their passion feed and unfold.
Like vines of flaming truth they embrace and renew,
squeezing hope out of fears once poisonous and blue.
Then came his miracles of immaculate metaphors
Dreams unlocked genius, and faith opened doors.
A poet is a Clinton D. Powell spreading wings of soul
like a feathered river sparkling newly-minted gold.
Like burning tambourines, waves dance to his rhymes.
Eagles and angels measure his time.
As he bids farewell, weeping hearts wonder: Why?
"I'm a poet," he sings, "I was born to fly."
© Omega*3