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Not everyone can penetrate the mystic curtain that some poetry hides behind;
but sometimes it’s worth the effort

Wish I were a poet

Wish I could see what others see,
and hear what others hear
your ‘thinkings’ transcendental.
For while they eulogize with glee,
it seems that I have nought to cheer,
not even elemental.

If you were close, just over here,
instead of being far away,
I’d whisper - wouldn’t need to shout.
As I beseech - “Please make it clear,
within your thoughts what do you say;
what is it all about?”

I closely look at every word,
and prize asunder line from line,
to see what’s written in between.
Is there something that’s inferred,
a clarity that’s only thine,
or aptness veiled that I can glean?

There must be others just like me,
who do not always comprehend,
yet try to find a meaning.
And sometimes ‘lost’ they feel at sea,
but stumble blindly to the end,
in hope of portents gleaming

So let me come in from the cold,
to share the secret of the brothers,
and be at one with you who know it.
Be gen’rous with your gifts untold,
for just like me there’s many others,
who wish they too could be a poet.