The Poet's Ear by Clara Mitchell
Words flood into the poet's ear.
If such rapids continue too long, I will soon go deaf.
This tide pulls me to my desk.
Divine inkwells awaken this moment.
Pure words capture my insight.
Scripts drip with fresh ink.
I hear the verse form
One by one--
The verses recite a new poem.
The Holy Oracles of God
Like a flood,
Have left eternal marks
In the poet's inner ear.
The inner ear is a sanctum--
Call it my temple, or dwelling
Place for my inner man.
The words are gone.
Inspire me again.
The water lines are proof--
These ears will hear again and again.
The poet must finish the poem.
The poet's ear creates like a musician--
Who can play by ear.
The poet's words are an arrangement
Composed by the Holy Spirit.
The hidden directing force
Behind all the curtains of life.
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