Where do the poets go?
Once it bubbled up in you
babbling-brook-like flowing fast and furious
unheeding of cliche or moody personality.
Hot lava searing and settling rock-hard
in the minds which channelled the flood;
Unshiftable once deposited
having changed the landscape
When did the urgency subside?
What calmed the burning boiling breast?
What turned your words to doves
feathered and flying
but pretty at least?
michele brenton 2011