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Impelled, compelled,
Driven to discover words
That, when my lines are read,
The inner meaning will be heard.

Too often, it seems,
Words that come to mind
Do not convey the image
That, in the lines, is twined.

When I try to merely rhyme,
The opined intent becomes lost.
Sometimes a meaningís clearer
When redundant words are tossed.

Still, many words stay hidden
No matter that I vainly seek.
Alas, I must hope the words I use
Will pass future readerís critique.

It is the bane of every poet
That he speak of varied truths.
Yet, for thoughts to be clearly spoke,
The words employed must offer proof.


By The_Pip2

© 2019 The_Pip2 (All rights reserved)


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