With Pen In Hand

Poetry does not have to be tear-
drenched pillows or lethargic bodies
wrapped in blankets like burial shrouds.

A poem could be a cat climbing an altar.
Among the candles and figurines, she gazes
down through the incense smoke at life below.

Poetry is my religion; sacred in its honesty.
Serendipity and despair are both inspirations,
guiding my pen through marshes teeming with orchids.

Copyright 2012
A. J. Hayes
Give a poet a pen