POETS PANTOMIME

I write poems as I lay,
Like many have to this day.
Picking words from thought interplay,
Words so precious in permanent splay.

Writing so fluent like woven stiching,
Flowing along as the plot is bristling.
Painting a story thoughts are bouncing,
Didgits scribble my heart is flouncing.

Puppet like thoughts are pulling strings,
Alternate lines have a satisfactory ring.
Juggling, wrestling, vaulting words,
Pen is scribbling the verse is bristling.

I write of demons, war and fairies,
Churchyard battles not to scary.
Changing it to play that varies,
To frisky scenes of love.

My writing is how I speak to thee,
For I am just a puppeteer.
Tropospheric words plucked from the clouds,
Explode onto paper a poetic spear.

For may it be said poets are many,
Each different the way they convey.
Phrases of rhyme scribbled pantomime,
An epitome of harmony.