Away from the drama and the prosaic
on a shifting isle living in a dream state
where truth is entrenched but forever afloat
on helium soil and purple colored smoke.
Poets settle in but ride the whimsical wind
off to paradise where dreams begin,
flying solo in the warmth of summer’s air
on yellow carpets with enhancing flair.
Smiling, gliding, floating on big fat clouds
above the chimneys and the clamoring crowds,
they look at the world through rose colored eyes,
painting over the darkness of the country-sides.
They stroke the paint brushes with love and passion
and create a new world in a lyrical fashion
while living away from the real-life world
where data is longing to be unfurled,
to loosen up its garments that take away its breath
and sail to Poets’ Island with nothing left
and smell the new air that the poets breathe
and think of new stories as they begin to weave.
Away from their homes where data is in control,
poetry is an alien to keep away from the soul
and poets are the advocates of disorder and chaos
in their stubborn reluctance to get the point across.
But Poets’ Island is there to bring joy and elation
and bring to the empty soul a new sensation
while advocating for the two worlds to meet
and form an alliance of admiration complete.