A poets life full of joy and sorrow,
First the pain heartfelt and long; then the gain.
Starting with poet's deadline tomorrow,
Our story begins and all unravels.

~.~

His idea strikes, will it work or not,
Best be putting pen to paper, but wait,
What are syllables and metre? He's fraught.
What about vowels, consonants and things?

~.~

Tools for novice and pro poet may use;
He picks his form and structure, now the view
Or picture he wishes to paint.  His muse
Now lets him write, or her, his lines begin.

~.~

Such, beholds he the magic rhyme giving time,
This belongs in the line.  A choice and voice.
I will build a stanza, I hear three fine,
Normative, quantative, variable.

~.~

But what about my syllables in feet;
What is measure? A scansion debate.
Many to choose, how they must keep the beat;
Where's the secret in those soft's or stresses ... ?
 

"Poet cries now alive: see chapter two ... "