A Poet Like Me

I walked into the venue to listen to him speak
he was one of the best, at the pinnacle, at his peak
I was told he brought words constructively fashioned
to take one to places with violent reaction.

Alone walking in, back left, I take a chair
sensing the excitement in the thick of the air
ambiance was quite nice, the vibe no doubt relaxing
I quickly move to the front without the decency of asking.

I needed to have a good view of who I came to
see to feel the force of his voice cause he was
a poet, like me.

Lights turn down dim as I sit, waiting for him
in hopes his set will be first, I felt patiently nervous
mouth desert dry and I'm slowly dying of thirst.

Now, a drink from the bar is not what I was after but
the quench from the flow of this master-piece crafter.

He's at the top of his game, prized poetry slams
in his pocket so I knew when he stepped to the
stage that he'd rock it.

Sound transmitter's warmed up, on set first he
was not, finally its his turn to grab the
mic and make it hot, the audience gets quiet
now he's in the light's spot....

His lips gently he licks, then he steps forward to spit
remarkable lyrics and my heart takes the hit
his flow was sooo sick with jaw dropping appeal
words in atmospheres entangled in depths I could feel.

His sound flew past my ears like the speed of light
in stillness of time, an experience in flight.

He dropped knowledge and drama, spoke of Israel and Obama
He was clearly well read, I felt I could get in his head
cause he was a poet, like me.

By the time he was through, I felt attacked, like by a lion
others paused in deep thought, some even walked out of there
cryin', he was just that deep.

He reminded me of why I truly honor this gift
like the value of gold found through a miner's
gentle sift.

Or like the rare pearl obtained after prying open one's soul
to take a mind by what it knew and cause thoughtful control.

He possessed that ability, all of it and much more
greater volume's of his craft I felt compelled to explore.

We had more in common above what I thought before, but
by then I realized, he was definitely far more than
just a poet, like me.

He communicated with an intensity only a
veteran could bring and used utterances that
cut and poured in rhymes that would sting.

He was no ordinary poet with a passion for his
art, see, he painted imagery on canvases with
colors from his heart.

If I could be that great, harbor abilities like his within
expressing and releasing scribes bound no longer by sin
since fear is my sin, like him, I can never fully share
this treasure the Creator has placed in my care.

I was privileged to meet him after the show
approached him timidly, though my faced showed a glow
he smiled at me and winked, said he thought I was cute
from then and there I knew that my character he'd suit.

Across the street we had coffee and conversation was on point
with inspiration I anticipated my ears he'd anoint
though his capabilities were considerable, down to earth and
humble was he, I found after hours in his presence that in fact
he was a poet, like me.

© 2008-2017 Natisha Iloka. All Rights Reserved.