Ah, The Poet Poem by Linda Burns

Ah, the Poet is a lover
but he's shy to a degree
so he puts his love in verse
and holds it out to you and me.

And he pretends it doesn't matter
if you like it or you don't
But it does.
It is your love that he wants.

Just your love
Not the money or the fame
Just your love
You don't have to know his name
Just your love
That is all he needs
Just your love

The Poet sits in drafty chamber
He wants to be alone
And he is alone there
Except for his Muse there on his shoulder.

Sometimes she holds him by his heart
Sometimes she holds him by his crotch
you can tell which one
if you care to watch.

The poet bleeds on scraps of paper
and his blood there become word
Then he passes it on to you
hoping your heart will be stirred.

For he feels that he is nothing
if he can't make you see
that a poet is what he
was truly born to be

And he wants your love
not the money or the fame
Just your love
You don't have to know his name
Just your love
That is all he needs
Just your love

The poet cries on table napkins
and his tears turn into rhyme
This gives him fulfillment.
It's how he wants to spend his time.

For he's a poet, he can't help it
and if he is to live
we must let him offer
all he has to give.

The poet washes his soul and his spirit
and indeed maintains his years
with the words on the paper
and the thanks he thinks he hears

So lets try to give him a little credit
when a little credit is owed
and watch him bloom
at the tribute we bestowed

Behold the Lover Poet
See the smile upon his lips
When we love him, he lights up
In a way we can't eclipse

Let us touch him only gently
for while his body may not break
his spirit might and that's
a chance I will not take.

He wants your love
not the money or the fame
Just your love
You don't have to know his name
Just your love
That is all he needs
Just your love