The Poet lives in a glass house
With no windows to the outside
Only doors
Leaving open the heart to be visited
By others
Even the unwelcome visitor
Is received
The Poet writes
With words that sometimes rhyme
The pen is put to the worldly task
Of describing what the Poet sees
And the heart feels
With words and not a brush stroke
Or a camera's flash
Pictures and paintings take on form
As if they were visions seen clearly
With the eyes
Of the Poet's true being and pure soul
Ink and paper
Tears and stains
Of past and present
Sorrows and pain
Loves and losses
Given the need to describe
What it is like to clean
A Poet's glass house
The Poet writes
With doors wide open
Come in
Take what you need
Give what you will
And leave
Copyright ©2007 Ted G. Sheridan
Ted Sheridan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/she-told-me-to-get-the-heck-out-of-her-poem/