No first-hand experience

A good poem starts the same way as a young plant

his roots firmly burrowed in fertile grounds

it’s the idea, the start of a song, nature’s chant

a fuse that burns through the land, no bounds

by the pen as a plough, driven by the force of the hand

a trail is drawn in a row of sentences, they grow

or so they say, as a leaf or a flower, they stand

together inside a meaning or a feeling, they flow

a good harvest it is, when you gather the fruit

the best and the sweetest, high from the sound

they will poetically enchant the spirits as good

as they are but don’t be too idle, don’t be too vain

if some day, someone says, hooray for what I found

stay on earth, don’t fly away, just start again planting the grain. 

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere

05/04/2015