R Is For Retrospective

R is for RETROSPECTIVE A poem is never merely still born, it has its creator's eyes,ears and nose Yet,unique it lives  a life of its own independent,well able to stand alone On others it can,influence,affect energise,direct or initiate A response,unforseen and immediate or lie dormant,yet not dead,but waiting Watered by another's mutual bond resurrected,to live again,again I recite and read aloud, wander, lonely as a cloud, then emulate and create as memory stimulates Swim against poetry's tide therein,an enigma hide, perhaps,a step too far,with Tennyson,crossing the bar I dream on Will's sonnet verse, figuratively,sweet and terse, lazing life away,with songs compared to a summer's day To conjure an opening line ever,remembered,as mine. Through this personal  lens I think,then write perspective's gaze alters,from night to night, as blotting paper,absorbs impressions of poetry's learned and unlearned lessons My anthology,my journey's log book from mainstream or the back lanes I took, An emphasis upon a favoured form those endeavours which I,on reflection mourn I change,I alter or perhaps stand still in retrospective of a fogotten will, And yet,driven by this creative itch, each day,I,this word tapestry must stitch