by Caroline Donnola
Is a poet
a gift from God?
from the fairies?
A wordsmith with a silver tongue,
a wounded soul
with too much pain
One who sees the droplets of light
cutting through the dark?
A healer to realign
Is there a special spring
from which poets drink,
infusing them with melody
Do poets breathe saltier air, imbibe sweeter wine which flows into our brains, producing magical thinking? ****** We grew up seven miles apart (I from the wrong side of Sunrise Highway.) Both of our mothers read us poetry when we were young. We were entranced and so we both picked up the pen and created our own. Years later we met at a union event at your home in Jersey City. Since then we’ve traveled down winding roads of political tactics candidates and campaigns fights and crusades progress and regress fits and starts. Surprisingly, we keep on. At times we meet in the countryside for brief forays into fields of green, you along riverbanks with strong currents where the fish slither by framed by cresting hills and purple wildflowers. ***** Language, my friend, is simply a game. We’re playing it all the time. Sometimes we’re in tune. Other times we’re a broken record that no one wants to hear. Occasionally we string together words that sing out in an almost dream-like state. We call these musings poetry. Those of us who place our reflections onto the page? We’re called poets. All we have to do is to keep on writing and say what we long to say.
4 thoughts on “Dialogue Between Two Poets”
Touching and philosophical. A wonderful combination
A Beautiful gift -poetry and friendship in bloom
Wonderful! Thank you both so much.