Vibrations Poem by Don Winslow

In my soul there is a room, a poetry room,
And in that room there is a crystal goblet.
The goblet listens to every word of yours that I read,
And it waits, and it waits, and it waits.

Poem after poem go by, the goblet sits quietly,
Until its search is rewarded.
It rings, it sings, it clings to those special words,
Words that make my heart vibrate in tune to your heart.




I don’t know if it’s just me, but some poems resonate with me, most do not. In a book of poetry I can enjoy and admire the poet’s work, his skill, but it may be just a few poems that truly move me. I’m sure it has a lot to do with the subject matter; perhaps all of it is the subject matter. Ah, subjectivity!