those visuals in verse
strip-lit ideas along ley lines
rhymes seasoned to taste
melodious metres that pulse
quickening a tick-tock lexicon
diction wormed away with sound
skaters on figures of speech
or drydocked in dictionaries
when poems fail to sail
us
listeners
ashore
ii
but first...
squeezed between push and pull
come the first drops that inspire
inking the blank sheet
tracing prosody from the predeceased
Lest we become poetasters
we trail in sonnets, follow
along rhymester routes
learn customs cut in sandstone steps
all by heart. Then up there
yodelling over the valleys
over and over
till the voice comes echoing back
as our own
* A poem that explains the “art of poetry”
It’s open link night over at dVerse where unprompted, anything goes
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