… does not have a vocalist’s melody;
to carry their legacy, standing alone on a nightclub stage.
… does not have a band of instruments; to strike their soulful innocence, upon a pulsing back-beated harmony.
… does not have a center ring, spotlight’s ellipse bright on a circus show of trapeze swings; under the big top on a warm summer’s night.
… does not have the celebration of skyrockets and bombastic flares; flung upon the sky of all other’s stares, with repercussive intent.
… does not build towers of steel and high spires; materialistic weight splayed in all desires, of windowpane’d reflections.
the Poet… does not see the world in narrowed intent; yet lives in correspondence of a limitless extent,
with a life
of pathways lit by words…
~ an EWK Poe’em ©2017 EWK
(a work-in-progress poem, critiques?)