Poetries Rise Poem by Bill Cantrell

When poetry evolves
It must first rise from the dead
Setting things straight,
exposing the missing common thread

When pens are anointed,
like the queen as to a knight
The high priest is at the alter,
on its horns the blood is red and bright

Then poetry ascends,
as incense then ignites,
emotions that we never knew,
we are the children of the chosen few

Pandora's box now opens
Please tell me what you see?
Inside is but a mirror,
an inkwell to eternity,

yes, thrust your pen to pierce my soul,

emotions then will hit the floor,

for poetry is an open door

Let it be opened door,

let it be your opened door