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.