Do you wish to be a poet,
as do I, come we'll see.
We may soar amidst the masters
on the wings of imagery,
if we weave our mother language
into strands of poetry.
We may hear a "Whitman singing",
by "the road less traveled on".
We shall hear the verses ringing,
by immortals, who are gone.
We may weave a line eternal,
O! I hear the sirens song.
If we seek this road to travel,
we may need a little shove
and some further inspiration
from the powers up above;
As we labor with our passion,
in the sunlight of our love.
It surely won't be easy,
though the metaphors are free.
Do you hear your muse now calling?
Treat your pen with simil'e.
"Let us then be up and doing",
Ah! Sweet realm of poetry.----1985
|
