Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Plight of the Poet

 ...above page from the book below

Gaps gape; thought grasps at unshaped word like cats at butterflies
Messages at the mercy of the mind vex virile sighs
Caught like the land when night is spent before dawn’s splurge of light
The hand is poised but reticent to unclothe Soul to sight

A lone-wolf pioneer that plows plots pressed on middle-air
And who knows what thunders across the stage of soundless stare
The page, a patient friend suffers the brunt of bribes uncouth
And waits out wars that wage while whispers sculpt out ageless truth

A tempest through which thought must feel for a stable foothold
To draw from wells of ink that served earnest poets of old
Where Poet of Time’s Present Day strives to pay homage to
The hands that did not heave the pen away when they were blue

Distraction flirts and puts on skirts to lure ungoverned gaze   
Diligence takes Her by the chin to rein in hunger's blaze
The tumult that precedes tender surrender, not defeat
Makes stronger the defendant and the victory more sweet

Press on, poet, thy charge thou canst not freely disregard
Though unbeknownst to masses is the voyage of the bard
Through looming halls and forests walled with noises veiled in dark
Until the quill finds the inferno that ignites the spark

© Janet Martin

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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed by the visit! I welcome and appreciate, if thought you care to speak; the value and the input of compliment or critique