Sidney Beck Poet Ode

This Was Your Poetry Muse

THIS   WAS   YOUR   POETRY    MUSE

Summer’s florid abundance of colour and spice;   
Or maybe winter’s  pristine scintillas of ice;           
Children just being children; or cats at play           
On some sad  wet  lifeless day.                                
Your imagery  though costly was bountiful     
Your inspiration was profitable and  plentiful.         

But it’s not how much you paid                           
Or how much you had assistance and aid.     
Or how much you were dismayed                   
When you wrote your serenade                    
And hoped it wouldn’t  fade.                         

You don’t need to even think twice :             
It’s how close you stuck to the  mode,          
How well you knew the   poetry  way                 
And humbly  travelled the poetry road:                  
And treated your words as creatures beautiful            
Conforming to the poetry code.
It’s not how much  profit you made:                           
But how much was  still   ode.

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