Poems Poem by Don Pearson

(For everyone involved in Poetry Teignmouth)

They wait in ambush,
poems by writers
unfamiliar to you,
hiding with apparent innocence
behind their cardboard fans,
simply words on a page, asleep,
dreaming in monochrome.

Tempted, you scan, unsure,
ready to remain detached,
prepared to be disappointed,
but expectant, hopeful.

Suddenly you are tranfixed.
The emotion behind the words
holds you, squeezes your throat,
prickles your eyes
and bonds with you
like a symbiont.

Simply words on a page?
Poetry books are grimoires
containing secrets and spells,
truths whose power, once read,
may never be undone.


10th October 2013