A Poem In Progress
Poetry is a tree that stands alone
Till it matures fully grown
Little by little it adds from birth
Watered by emotions full of worth
Nourished with words simple and complete
Creating rhythm and internal beat
Capable of saying things quite profound
Sublime Rhymes and ideas abound
Early or late we think and create
And wait for words that relate
Sometimes inspiration can be quick as summer lightening
But brilliant ideas don’t always flow
So in the end we may reap what we sow
It stands to reason no matter what you do
Sometimes there will be no rhyme in any season
Even with revision it ends up all the same
And the poem begins to sound pretty lame
If it turns out bad we have no one to blame
But all things being the same
All we have left is personal satisfaction
We end up with elation or with a retraction
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