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Friday, December 30, 2022

The Poet's Yoke

 




A waltz with words that waft and twirl across a ballroom floor
The laughter of a little girl drifting from worlds of yore
A sense of imminence immersed in steadfast, common care
Of workaday and bills to pay and suppers to prepare

A sentimental ballad slipping through matters of fact
The art of bearing verses while keeping façade intact
And balancing the beckoning of worlds in want of ink
With sensible responses like cleaning the kitchen sink

To siphon from life’s thrum the rolling of a sort of sea
Rife with glints of spent summer and tomorrow’s mystery
Requires tireless patience while panning for lilt and rhyme
(This is not for the faint of heart, the art stealing time)

The poet’s yoke is made of air yet weighs a whisper-ton
With lyrics waiting to be snared and tamed and poem-spun
From brooding skies and sparkling eyes, from goodbyes and hellos
Each day unfurls a paradise of poems to compose

The merchant laughs and stuffs the chaff of trade into his sack
The maiden blushes; hopes he looks while she is looking back
The traffic rushes, the rain hisses underneath each wheel
The poet smiles and gathers manna for another meal

The poet's yoke is lily-soft yet claws the cloak of souls
With merciless persistence because always death's bell tolls
And who knows when the pen may fall prey to its solemn chime 
As the poet turns to behold the Giver of the rhyme 
 
Oh, pray they serve with honor the onus of pen and page
Because the life of written word survives from age to age
And who knows who will pause to read the stuff of wrangled ink
Therefore, the yoke should weigh enough to make the poet think

© Janet Martin

Okay, that's all for today, folks!
Wow! and maybe this year!
 Depends how tomorrow goes!
With much love, 
Janet

Wishing for us all, for 2023
 a fresh awareness of God
and a deeper reverence for Him,
 from whom all blessings flow


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