I would eat popcorn for poetic pastures,
Inspiring for poet’s finest thought,
Smiting a puff up heated word-web of senses;
For my thought to live in tunes.
To which I popped-up poetic licences,
Solemnizing words unseen being nearer brought.
It’s grooviness popped-up words unwritten,
I mouthfully chewed; creating an insightful leisure
Of poetic-catharsis, with crimson literature,
That without cornfield prairies comes a poetic drought.
My popcorn brings me a quietude chair,
Where poet-inspiration will sit in;
When it mused soundless words in the air,
Rhymed and ballad; as the pop is melting.
Brings the words close to the poet inspiring.
I walked popping corn in the linear hedges,
Singing by the colourful lilies edges;
Popcorn in my mouth turning sadness into good,
While I chewed the last pop beneath my blanket,
To which I prayed; popcorn be my thought-food.
This was written and sent to me by my friend Jubril Gulani. If you are reading this, I want you to know that I wish you all the best.