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Being a nurse is getting old
Working all night and it's cold
Do poet's make a living
When emotions what we're giving

Some do find a way, I guess
Perhaps their poetry is blessed
By knowing the right people or verses
Staying kind or making curses

For the world to read
The poet who indeed
Has the talent and the backing
That some of us are lacking

I applaud those few
Who are paid for what they do
Unlike most of us
Who write it out or bust

Because our feelings are overwhelming
Into this place we come delving
To deliver us from what's with in
Our graces and our sins

Let them go
Even if nobody wants to know
The way of our tortured souls
Our poetry still rolls

On for the sake of sanity...
...It's you and me
Poets who don't get the money
By being happy sad or funny

It's the way of the poet breed
To have a mind and feed
The lost soul there inside mind
With words that leave poems sublime

For all to hear
It holds us dear
To one another
A poem to recover

What has been missing
In some line that's kissing
Another soul goodnight
It's only some words that fight

For peace of heart
Where words are a part
Of all we can be
As the poet there in you and me.

1/7/2008 2030 cj

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