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Every so often I write a poem about the craft or purpose of poetry.


Stanzas Meant to Rhyme

Mysteries beckon from inside,
shared by others in response
to the trials of higher gods.
The poet crafts their reply
to life's rewards and hard denials
in the stanzas meant to rhyme.

Sins against humanity,
waged with word's hyperbole
across the written lines.
Words bent to speak the mind,
victims alike with reader kind,
how rude the poet's native tongue.

See the jest and jab of wit,
arrayed there by lyric's lilt
upon the pen of digital quill.
Scribbles come from the mind
releasing passion heaven sent
or from demons down below.

Do you seek wisdom's gate,
flung wide by the spilled ink
on this life's manuscript?
The mysteries resist introspect,
instead the words dribble out
in the stanzas meant to rhyme.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160216.

April 2020

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