I hated the awkward classroom…

set pieces to study and interpret,

collections of old words;

stuffy and unexciting

I flunked the mock literature exam…

parental payment withheld,

works of the greats untouched;

only language class remained

Roll on many years…

experiences mounted, feelings rose,

language came to the fore…

poetry spilled onto the page

Intermittent waters have passed…

swirling seas and entwined estuaries,

raging rivers and struggling streams;

an ebbing flow of ink…

Spurting speech setting rights,

peaceful peonies showing face,

holy holistic interludes;

surfaced scenarios explained

Language can be spoken…

words told - maybe forgotten;

In the hands of a poet,

the pen of life is held

Tapped out, it never lies…