Donald Meikle Poet I do not know?

Foot Notes

A note to poets yet to be
No matter what their age is
They’ve indexed mine as world war two
But what’s a scouser lad to do
With all those bumhole sages



To develop the ability to speak into eternity and not be heard’ s demeaning
It’s not just finding words to rhyme with syllables in metered time
You have to have a meaning
To give to those in later years  to make their eyes o’er flow with tears
of sentimental empathetic leaning
It doesn’t have to beat it home  to keep repeating in a tome
With weight too late to ponder
It only has to make them peer through time to see a moment clear
To stare with your eyes yonder
To show a simple memory  of what was here for you and me
A rushing stream a vivid dream a rose in prose depicted
But chiefly briefly try to say your message to a friend
Emotions free a trifle fey and true blue to the end
So polish your vocabul'ry and pay your syntax just to be
Remembered in eternity
Come combat time with words that rhyme
And when you’re bent in blind intent or lost in thought and sorely spent
Just read and heed these thoughts I sent
To you my friend through time

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