Forest Of Poets Poem by James McLain

The poet raises up deep sounds.
Carried off with the forest of poems.
Where all hidden seasons are green.
How they like the eyes glossy shine.

Parting the moss eating leaves.
Makes the arrows for Cupid's lone heart.
Very hard as the bow is made of string.
And dramatic the forest in silence it screams.

Every poet each being the brave hunter,
At the edge of dark night, light is pursued.
If and, it fails to find you.
You do not have to
break the tip off the top of the twig.
Beforehand, centered round vines to yours.

The sound where the twig where the breeze comes
having the smell of the smoke, drying sounds
they are snappily heard.
The slope to the stream be it closed,
opens with cascades.

Begin to invite the wing it's feathers are shaken.
Hear for us how it came!
As for the wind, as for the leaves gently falling.

And with each rising tree the star glows brighter.
It rises.
Warm you yourself,
enjoy each other with the rythem and rhyme
which is rich in wit.
Poets are Funny each story is strange.