The poet speaks within,
then moulds words for the world,
to usher joy at dawn,
hopeful beginning, lyrical address,
writers dream to engage with,
the sky, sea, town, earth,
audience of environs astounding,
each creative person learns to listen,
they long for a heartfelt response,
the day and morning unfolds,
town and city veil dispersed,
curtain now raised aspiring,
a cast thriving on ovation,
motivated by an external plot,
horizons that tower cloudless,
yet each now word painting,
a deep yearn to span,
and spread enchanted plea,

after approximately 690 months ago
when his body electric
underwent a crash-dive;
James Earl Ray, the assassin
triggered pent up eruption
analogous to beehive

rent asunder courtesy
foo fighting beastie boy

or wracked linkedin
to predator videlicet bear
furiously tearing inside the colony
of Apis mellifera to reach the honey.

Humanity lost a supreme and foremost
ally, whose apt surname
associated as king

ABOUT FACE

Always difficult to be sure of a name
Never sure whether it is truth or lies
It’s a pitiful way for one to gain fame

For some, finding out who, can still surprise
With a reluctant acceptance of that task
A sad case of hiding under that disguise

If one can just try to look behind the mask
There is an expression, but without a face
Yet what lies beneath, if only one could ask

As for hints or clues, there is rarely a trace
And it may need a sleuth to solve such a case
 

I ably, easily and readily admit

to self plagiarization 
about half of the following words that did flit

to and fro, hither and yon
(about three hundred 
and sixty five days ago)
saving me the trouble to knit

Wet  leafs random toss by autumn gale,

hue stained bold foliage unfurls, 

Scent of flowers,
in urban flourish,
green garden frame,
rustic oddball inset,
tickles noses now,
fragrant smell hoist,
amid the hue tint,
immune to traffic,
yet sonic cadre,
to tilting roses,
crushed stone plot,
when train or tram,
bus, taxi, bicycle,
whizz past idyllic, 
scenery and sound,
mild distraction fraught,
but not saught after,
as of yet perhaps,
a first light signage,
has its scheme,
that plot on schedule.

Light kissed the buds of mallow
   And w