The Writer In Me, Wants You To Know

Gold or gladiolus or golden sapphire fine; Delighted, even if I divine light define; If, like an orange, the details I do not peel, Will my rhyme-lyric like an angelus-bell, peal? Like a disciplined mother rearing her infant, Timely sleeping, rising, nourishing comprehend; Shaping each brick of my creation if I build, Will my greatest works as unskilled ever get grilled? Is my concept clear as a transparent crystal? Does my thought target, shoot as sure as a pistol? Do my ideas, views flow like fluent rivers? Are my imageries as reflected as mirrors? If I write 'pudding' when I need to write 'wedding' When it necessitates making the amending; If my ego, like a wall, stands strong on the way, I'm not a poet perfect; I should get away. As the wave-sound of the sea both feeble and rough, As the chirping of birds are coarsely sweet enough; As wild animals have roars, gibber, brays, and hums, My words should vary from simple to complex-sums. Is a writer full in him that he should not read? Do the shores of the seas ever a limit need? Voraciousness in keenness make my wisdom vast, The wisest of wisdom should be my true breakfast. 11 August 2021 The Writer In Me, Wants You To Know Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose