Poetry Contest

I had this terrific Idea for a poem Yet! Was I pushing luck to the hilt? The judge no doubt will view me with suspicion, yet surely they need me just as i need them, if only for one’s hard earned empathy! But what is it that I give of myself? My rhythmic impulse scrutinized, my phobic enigma unraveled, exposed to a worldly sophistication, alliteration, simile, amphibrachic metre they are not here, only a sudden impulse to emulate the Chris Aechtner's of this land! My mind ponders on the justification, there will be a first! A second, even a last there is always a last. Yet! My sensitivity meanders with me to the post box, a vice like grip holds the envelope, what I give, here now to be analyzed, a mind diagnosed, symptoms seen through the touch of a fingertip! © Harry J Horsman 2001