Michael Fischer (March 30,1987 / Buffalo, New York)
The summer spirit of the illustrious angel
warms the cold night of the northeast winter.
She wears a spring flower in her long golden hair
and her glow is as bright as an early autumn leaf.
She has a poetic soul;
one that’s deeply enriched
by her pipe dreams of eminent love and happiness.
Her virtuosic verses
are kindred to Paganani’s violin playing;
They can make the manliest of men cry
with the overwhelming beauty they possess.
With each passing poem,
she will gently massage your heart
and lay a tender kiss on it,
warming your insides like a log cabin fire place.
Her soft voice will put you on a ship,
that sail the seas of nirvana,
during which the evening sun
will set on the glistening waters.
After her reading,
you’ll feel rejuvenated,
like a child after its afternoon nap.
Maybe you’ll be inspired to put a pen to paper
and write an epic as well.
Comments about this poem (The Poet by Michael Fischer )
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