Am I a witch?
A word witch
Capable of casting
Protective spells
To distract a troubled mind?
To make eyes smile
While faces weep.
To rip concentration
From the memory
Of a roadside accident
And highlight the colour –
The amazing colour –
Of that pedestrians hair.
Could it be that I give freely
Or am I somehow paid by the simple act
Of writing these words,
Which distract me from
Personal demons and
Discomforting thoughts?
Could it be that my words
Are like the spray paint
Of a street artist?
Loved by some
Reviled by others,
A simple distraction to most.
Inside me,
Words are pleasure and pain
Joy and fear.
And the surprise is,
Those same words to you
Can create the opposite…
Move them around.
Let them settle.
Maybe then I will be paid
With a gentle smile
At the corner of your eyes.
Poetry is my aeroplane 