The Heart Of A Poet

While the pride of of tinsel town
In their flare and liberal quests
aspire to fame and gilded plaques
Who in earnest covet  applause
long after the bright lights fade -
within whose ranks and kindred 
fold , life is tallied up by the tab.

Not so for the soulful bard -
mystic seeker of unfathomed wit
to whom laurels and tinsels bear no charm;
For what the spirit yearns is a quest apart
and onto chosen deities such biddings hark.
How blessed my lot to bear the mark !


Thus in the heart of hearts of space -
the den; where the genie laid her egg,
there, in cloistered hours of days
while amblers sip their vices on ice,
in the dim, I toil in verse and prose-
plucking the void for anointed words
to reel my thoughts from airy heights.

And when from furrowed brow
through smiling plume,
my thoughts on parchment  flow-
Only the heart of a Poet would find
in such a modest tryst......
a thrill so deep to keep or share.

By

Hope Kalé Ewusi ©