Saturday, 14 January 2023

One hell of an open mic

 


Every word of this is true

or so I'm led to believe.

A poetry show,

one cold winters eve.

The words were flowing well,

The drink helped. But that wasn't a hard sell.

A buzz filled the hall

like insects wanting to join the thrall.

 

The host was making the guests feel inspired

like inside them they had burning, raging fires

and the words began to pop.

Twisting from lips, they wouldn't stop.

They bounced around the room, into ears,

these words, trapped away for years.

Finally freed.

Then something not normally seen in this poetry game,

the flow of words started to erupt into open flame.

 

Seems by twisting words a little too well, 

someone had accidentally

cast some mystic spell,

A direct line call to the gates of hell

and the Devil appeared, a bit dishevelled

and confused.

He was at that moment

about to watch some TV.

His greatest creation.

Love Island.

 

Well not one to turn down a free drink

and some entertainment,

the devil pulled up chair.

Which burned away instantly,

So he stood listening intently.

He found the words flow through him,

a tear boiling in his fiery eyes,

a laugh roared from his scorched throat

and in that moment, he swore

never to search for fiddlers again.

Poetry was may more hardcore.

 

It is said, that on poetry nights

if you investigate the spaces

just out of the light.

You may see his red fingers clicking,

hear the fiery laughter ringing.

So let your words out,

but be in no doubt

that sometimes the devil is lurking about.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

Please follow the link for my books, videos and social media.
 
Every click, every book purchase, every like helps me to keep doing what I love.
 
Peace, Love and Poetry 
 
Kyle
 
 

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