His Living Poem
His Living Poem
I am a simple man,
loquacious words I have not.
The few illustrative words I possess
I recently learned or already forgot.
Authored by those more educated,
are the poems I read before.
Frost, Yeats, Whitman, Longfellow,
Poe, Dickenson, Vance Cooke, and more.
Even you, my sophisticated friends,
possess the gifts I dearly desire.
Within you lies countless treasures,
that sparkle when read by a lamp or a searing fire.
What gift in me I can draw on you for a smile or tear?
What, in my limited capacity, can I impart to you?
And what have I acquired, would you want to bear?
There is none, from what I can find, or view.
That you've read this far, none have come before.
Surely countless have already left,
as a dull wit I be, and to others just a bore.
The only observation I can find,
that would allow me to be of a facility,
is His living poem... a simple rhyme...
is what God hath made in me.
And through His faith,
He trusts in me... His very simple rhyme,
to read the poems penned by you,
a gift from Him to you,
expressions so sublime.
by Martin Braun
July 30,2023
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