A musician can sing with no words,
just give him a guitar,
watch him smite silence into song.
An artist can tell a story with no words,
just pass her a paintbrush,
listen as she breathes life into a landscape.
A sculptor can make a statement with no words,
just hand him a mound of clay,
feel his fingers shape mud into majesty.
But a poet is not a poet with no words.
Words are my strings, my palette of colors,
my mound of clay, my hands, my voice.
Without them, I am a tree in the forest
with no one around to hear me fall.
Poppy White-Herrin is married to the love of her life Jason, and together they have four daughters and two grandchildren. She is originally from Laurel, Mississippi, but now lives in Gonzales, Louisiana. Her poems have appeared in many publications and have received various contest awards over the years.