Worthy of Praise
What makes a poem poetry finds life between its lines,
A gift some readers strain to see, like secret Valentines
The poet hides in sacred text, a Bible I might use,
(Not something that a class assigned), that’s food for angel’s muse!
A poem is a partnership, its stumblings can be fraught
With buried treasure, hidden rooms, and paths adverse to thought,
A pilgrims’ progress drifts on clouds above them in the sky,
That won't be bribed, dug whole from ground, applaud vague alibi!
A poem’s vision’s colored braille that only mind can feel
A best friend that you’ve not met yet, a photo of a meal,
That catches eye, unsettles taste, and makes you salivate,
Though still not yours to wonder why, you blush and make a date!
No poem wants you for itself, it lives to see you burn,
And dreams of verse whose chastity you might give birth in turn
On planet earth! Its whispers bend like rainbow’s curve,
In partnership with God's own muse when you don't lose your nerve!
Brian Johnston
14th of June in 2019
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