All Poets Are Thin

ALL POETS ARE THIN

by Kelp

If you have ever seen pictures
Of the great poets –
In a book, for example, about poetry
Or in an anthology – and there are many –
You will notice that they are thin.

A plump poet is very rare.
More than likely, they will be spare.
Lean – like their verses –
They were averse to fat.
Faces drawn, eyes forlorn –
Spindly fingers clutch a hat.

Some were poor and lacking coins
To buy their bread to pad their loins. 

Some, of course, were sickly, too –
Consumptive, like Keats, who died too young –
Or Self-Consuming –
Or too high-strung.

But it’s hunger of a higher type
When food is mere distraction;
A hunger deeper in the gut
Craving satisfaction.

There is no time or interest
Or pleasure to be had
From seasoned meat upon a plate
Or freshly buttered bread.

In the throes of giving birth
Or tickled by the fairies
Even thoughts of nourishment
Are only secondary.

When I eat my food, I am satisfied.
I savor each and every dish. 
I pat my belly, I belch, I sigh,
But I know no art can come from this.