You cannot put a Fire out --
A Thing that can ignite
Can go, itself, without a Fan --
Upon the slowest Night --

You cannot fold a Flood --
And put it in a Drawer --
Because the Winds would find it out --
And tell your Cedar Floor --
    --Emily Dickinson  (1830-1886)

I'm not sure what the technical definition of a poet is.  Or, what makes you horrifically famous as a poet - death, volumes written, content?  Nor do I always fully understand or connect to some poets words and phrasings, or identify closely with the subject matter they are exposing.  But, much like music, when you do connect to a style, a prose, an angst, a declaration, it is like finding the final pieces to a 1,000 piece puzzle - crystal clear and satisfying.

It was not a heart, beating.
That muted boom, that clangor
Far off, not blood in the ears
Drumming up and fever

To impose on the evening.
The noise came from outside:
A metal detonating
Native, evidently, to

These stilled suburbs nobody
Startled at it, though the sound
Shook the ground with its pounding.
It took a root at my coming

Till the thudding shource, exposed,
Counfounded in wept guesswork:
Framed in windows of Main Street's
Silver factory, immense

Hammers hoisted, wheels turning,
Stalled, let fall their vertical
Tonnage of metal and wood;
Stunned in marrow. Men in white

Undershirts circled, tending
Without stop those greased machines,
Tending, without stop, the blunt
Indefatigable fact.
                                  --Slyvia Plathe (1932-1963)

Poets, like lyricists, use phrases/stanzas/rhythm/images in more parametered meters than does a writing blabber such as I.  They seem to be gifted to paint this almost life-like portrait with only an 8 1/2 inch canvas, limited paints, and one brush.  I bow to their ability and skill.  I freely acknowledge I cannot do what they do.  Whether you like Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, Slyvia Plath, Robert Frost, or more modern day contemporary poets like; Maya Angelou, Ros Barber, Jonathan Bohrn and the likes of others, they are architects of words and images.

If you are not a poetry reader, try it - more than once though.  Try different poets until you find one that strikes a cord with your soul, your mind and your spirit.  Then, you will be hooked.  Might I suggest if you are unfamiliar with poetry in general.  Open up your mind and explore!

"I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you.
 I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me.
I love you for the part of me that you bring out."
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

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