No first-hand experience

A good poem starts the same way as a young plant
his roots firmly burrowed in fertile grounds
it’s the idea, the start of a song, nature’s chant
a fuse that burns through the land, no bounds

by the pen as a plough, driven by the force of the hand
a trail is drawn in a row of sentences, they grow
or so they say, as a leaf or a flower, they stand
together inside a meaning or a feeling, they flow

a good harvest it is, when you gather the fruit
the best and the sweetest, high from the sound
they will poetically enchant the spirits as good

as they are but don’t be too idle, don’t be too vain
if some day, someone says, hooray for what I found
stay on earth, don’t fly away, just start again planting the grain.

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere
05/04/2015