'The Naked Poet' Poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory

I sit before the bare page
With just the lines protecting it's emptiness
My mind is also bare, bereft of words
The pen in my hand shouting
I am here with all the world's language's
Held within my ink filled lining
The pen goads me on, go on, you naked poet
Make me the empty one
Dress your bare page
With the words I have within
My ink filled lexicon lining
Go on if you dare you naked poet
Claim the glory for the words
That that stream from my innards
True poetry flows from my nib
True in every language
I am the almighty pen, the one truly gifted poet
Dress your page with my prose, dress your page with an ode
From my memory, the memory of the almighty pen
The one true poet, the poet master
The one who dresses your mind with words
The one who will dress you, until then you must remain
‘The naked poet'

Micmac