Using Bold
To grab the words from thin air
to step out and permanently say
it is such and such a way
to jump deep inside
instead of hide
and face the face of one's mortality
infallibly
Food for thought is not always tasty
but our reactions still often too hasty
To be a writer it is brave
to the consensus you are a slave
and good writing is never easy
in fact some have made me queasy
But writing is still where I find
truly a piece of mind
Like a dentist I plaster and polish
wrestle and wrangle pull and push
to get a perfect smile
it takes a while
More than ideas are in my head
although I've been told the Art of Poetry is dead
I still see poems everywhere, through teeth in combs
and propped on chairs, words tangled in hairs
So I take to poems to let them out
rarely stopping to edit or doubt
Does this word even go?
Only the poet should know...
often I get it all wrong
out of tune, like this song.
Form and convention is sometimes a bore
All the devices and metaphor
This must follow that, trying to do the math-
what was the order? I'm off the beaten path
I think I used improper composition
or was it my terrible diction?
Either way before you go
there's something secret you should know
A poet never wrote for fame
for the muse, it's just the way the words came.
Image By Okeyes (WMF) (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.
