Poetry Market Place Poem by Leaking Pen

I celebrate my body politics
I celebrate my body poetic,
I celebrate my poetic voice,
I celebrate my poetic imagination
The beat of my heart
And the breaths of my lungs,
I celebrate my poetic passions
The canvas of my soul,
I celebrate my poetic emotions
With words that paint the universe.

I celebrate my poetic logic
Where ambiguity and ubiquity display my thoughts,
And ideas contract and expand with inspirations
Like sails of a ship catching and releasing the winds
Which propel my poetic journey to discovery,
But above all it is my imagination that binds
All parts together to form my poetic body electric,
With feet that walk the distance,
And hands that harvest fruits of the spirit
And my mind guided by the all Seeing Eye.

The divine role of a poet’s is to pin down a dot and allow
The reader to trace more than one course of possibilities,
And explore together what poetry paints with metaphors and similes.
Poetry is the spark of light or darkness from the house of yesterday, today and tomorrow,
Where logic gets its understanding and where poetry’s reach is far greater than the number 8
Resting on its side, or an electron’s potential infinite well.
Whose mysteries doors are open wide?
Where revelations are captured by dreams
It’s channelling, the poet’s portal to inspiration.

Philosophers throughout the ages have asked: “where is seat of the soul located? ”
Descartes’ answer was: “The pineal gland, “I think therefore I am.”
While the clergies: “God’s infallible words.”
For the poet, seat of the soul is his or hers poetic licence.
It is the light that reflects many colours from the same poem,
And offers diversity in interpretation
From one reader’s vision to the next,
Unlike a published scientific paper
Where logic is pinned down
And has no more room to unfold.

August 22-25th 2014
Copyright Leaking Pen 2014
Dedicated to Walt Whitman,