I Love a Poem

I love a poem that I can understand, not tangled threads(obscurity’s dark web), but glove of silk that slides off Poet’s hand. Newfangled poetry can have an ebb; its words can from the shoreline of my mind recede into their author’s murky sea. Like birds on splendid wing, the poems the kind I need are those which sing with clarity! To soar, a verse best-written is sublime. To such as this I’m drawn, so I essay to pour my thoughts on paper, adding rhyme; then touch them up, succinct in what I say. How strange I sometimes hours might take to write a mere fourteen-line sonnet that is trite! Jan. 23, 2021 for Charlotte Puddifoot's the 'Open Poetry 1' Poetry Contest