Monday, December 5, 2016

The Wherewithal of Poetry





Sometimes your candour fills her thought
Yet will not set her longing free
Nor satisfy with twist and jot
The wherewithal of poetry

Your fluent undertow runs rife
With epic possibility
To paint the picture-scapes of life
And love in tongue of poetry

The poet craves the ink of you
To set to page pieces of heart
 To wage the wars of gold and blue
And capture want in works of art

But sometimes you evade her call
Without regard or sympathy
Ah word, the utter wherewithal
And paint-palette of poetry

© Janet Martin

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