There's a certain slam of poetry
that echoes in my ears;
it's got metaphor and semaphore,
gestures which can shift gears.
The topics tackled vary
although the most common theme remains;
there's nothing words can't solve
(except those grand things that stay the same).
There's an idea here; Ophelia,
a troubling state of mind,
antonym to all interiors;
'dreamers often lie.'
*not a text poem.