Scratches Poem by Matthew Holloway

A scratching of words
Is not worthy of poetry
They need to grip me
The reader tightly
Take me upon a journey
Of emotion and scenery
A few lines do not serve
That thirst for verse
Anyone can write
And be judged as such
But a poet must live
Drink, eat and die
In words and words alone
So mere scratching
Of letters assembled
Are meaningless
Less they reach out
And touch the life soul
Of the reader
I dare not ask
If I am a poet
I only hope
To be called one