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ON THE MIC 2

When words dance to unheard tunes on the lines of your sheet,
As you breathe life onto them, death suffers defeat.
The urge to bring the page to stage stirs.
Then the cares of life we share moves from despair into repair.
Our efforts are not useless.
When we stand before the crowd and allow words to spill from our reserve; we deserve an applause.
And still, we seek to preserve -
Preserve our names behind the blue and red wires of the microphone.
Our images are printed behind every stanza, verse and line.
We refuse to be beaten,
Every handiwork is fine.
We tell our stories from the bottom of our hearts,
So there's meaning in every line-it's a replica of our hearts.
When we're on the mic, things happen.
When we're on the mic, we happen.

Revelation Poet ©2016
http://revelationpoet.blogspot.com
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