I am the slave of her poetry of life

I am the slave of her poetry of life, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr.

call her
by another
name
call her
what
you will
she is
my inspiration
my muse
my imagination
my thoughts
my silent words
my talent
my skill
a wordsmith
pounding
the soul
of humanity
through a blog
a don quixote
spearing
distant
windmills
making
dreamy
mountains
of love lost
regained
out of molehills
boundlessness
silent sounds
goodwill
all placed
at the feet
of her freewill
an Indian sparrow
on her window sill
begging her
for a refill
baby fat
shedding weight
on a treadmill
my silent prayer
god wont fulfill
she me a void
time and space
all stand still
my flesh was
willing
my spirit
on her soul
over spills
chills
whether
she is
the spectral
essence of
my survival
that fits
the bill

until

hope
within
hope
another
hope
instills

the poets ass
barbecued
raw tender
sirloin
on a slow grill
lord of the flies
on a dunghill