i poem

i poem

my poem, my muse, my love o’ fair

i penned my lines with angst and dare

i guised my craft as poetic-ware

i considered not thy toll nor tare

i’ve maligned thy name with language bane

to shine a light ‘pon humanity’s wane

i strive with word i tethered insane

for naught i think, for dark remain

to speak, to dance in lyrical quest

was this to be a “poet’s” test

i’ve not failed yet, to give thy best

instruct me dear muse, r’i die my less

let my verse ring true, in beauty in word

i pray my bitters’ ne’er be heard

let the children laugh and eat the curd

let our dreams expand beyond the third

thy Sun now shines for Souls which weep

to rinse the stain from eyes that sleep

let poetry’s divine conquer and creep

with harmonious tones abysmal and deep

if i can’t be the Poet, then i’ll be the song

for justice, for love, for righting the wrong

to answer the call, for which hearts do long

let us smile, let us dance, for the bell has rung strong

© 6  September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

http://www.iaminnerchild.com/

http://www.innerchildpress.com/