The posings of a poet.


* In honor of my heroes, the giants on whose shoulders I stand….and National Poetry Month.



The pace of Frost is worth the cost
The madness of Thomas infects with a promise
The weight of the Pound affects precise sound
The fullness of Eliot makes one a zealyot
The leaves of Whitman so deep I omit him
The lilting of Yeats the greatest of feats
The riddles of Lewis seem born to life through us
The goings on of Cummings excite where are numbings
The woe of Poe shines through like black snow
The marching of Dickinson makes proud poet citizen
The wake of Blake keeps many awake
The striding of Lawrence breaks with appearance
The singing of others I’d like to call brothers
The truth of the thing is we all long to sing
So if I haven’t rhymed you I’ve not maligned you
The songs you have set just haven’t reached me yet

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3 thoughts on “Ode

  1. Very lyrical. Lovely.

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