Saturday, November 7, 2015


The graceful skill of a well-turned phrase
Whether poetry or prose
Is a grace well loved by all mankind
But 'specially dear to those
Who labor with the pen
And who hope somehow to find
A tale hid within a rose
To entertain the ken

They labor long over word and rhyme
Endeavoring to tell,
How scent so sweet to thrill the soul
It's color on the swell
Of petal, soft within the bud
The softness of the whole
And there entreat to dwell
In red as deep as blood.

Within the soul lies fire that burns
An incendiary star
It's light to shine within the dark
Brilliant more by far
Than most any word before
On the page, it lights its spark
It leaps within the jar
Lightning caught once more

With careful strokes of pen to page
Glistening with hope
The sweat of brow, the shout of heart
Reaching out to grope
For words with which to tell
What loving does impart
Unseen 'til now the scope
Oh, how to tell it well.

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