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Poetry
The heart is a language
of feelings, the mind a
language of wordy debate
let my heart transgress
always lead my poetic fate --
let the spaces between
suggest so little as mere that,
this, and such
but never clearly
too much –
through the
blessed fog of creation I will
bravely be led, the language
of poetry, a wild predator, always
in pursuit, dangerously un-fed
let my erratic emotion
cause composition commotion,
let me fearlessly scribe works
both soothing and those irritating
needing lotion
let poetry be my prayer as well
my devotion...so God please
delay my heaven-bound hearse
till I have penned, to take with me,
a sh't-load of pungent verse!
Copyright ©
Joe Dimino
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