Wordsmiths

He entered with flare,

wrote some enticing words.
She read them over wearily,

who was this wordsmith?

He tied imaginations in knots

turning the heat on with force.

She didn’t bother speaking to him

ladies were flocking to see
this fellow of interest,

enticed by his exotic lines?
Feeling there was more to him,

she sat, studying his ideas,

finally she entered her stand.

The plethora of words and such

stories driven by want to write,
were soon to grow between them,

fervor for fables would thrive.
She’d write a poem of lusty love,

entwining of some arduous souls.
He a tale of mysterious fear

imaginings never suspected.

Friendship grew, built on words,

the writer’s visions soared.
They’d never meet each other,

but have met within their minds.
Is this the passion of wordsmiths

when two minds blend in the fold?

Susan J. Owen © 2012

This is a rewrite, I learned a long time ago to write and rewrite. This could be better, but it's a memory of why I went to American Zoetrope.
It's hard to get criticized, but no one is so good that they can be better unless you're Maya Angelou, Walt Whitman or others I could mention.
I've been writing for more years than I care to mention which doesn't make me better, just informed.  This link is one of the best for a quick reference to the types of poetry and examples.
Best link for types of poetry