Hunger for Poetry
My hungry soul aches for poetry.
on paper plates,I serve myself words of beauty
of nature, of love, of justice,
with a flavor of jet black ink.
I savor my poetry,
pouring over each line and stanza,
each metaphor, each simile,
enjoying my literary meal.
I devour my poetry,
eating up each haiku and limerick,
which evoke emotions of happiness and pain on my dinner table,
a small desk in my room with a reading light.
When I finish my poetry,
I feel it seep into my brain, the words flowing throughout my body.
I am full.
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