pmaccabe (pmaccabe) wrote in mormonwriters,
pmaccabe
pmaccabe
mormonwriters

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On Poetry

Scansion, rhyme, passion, vim,
At first it starts as something dim,
And words a chain with which to bind,
To ink the nebulous whim of mind.

Some with iron shackles rough,
Not artful but both true and tough,
Speak the things which must be said,
Bluntly pierce both heart and head.

Others light, lay verse on verse,
Artisans from words they nurse,
Slender a chain as e'er did float,
About the fairest maiden's throat.

A chain may circle and hold there,
A thing great, or a thing spare.
It can lend grandeur, meaning, heft.
Be it well-formed; blunt or deft.

Shoddy fetters likewise skew
Something that is twice as true,
As in them it doth appear.
Make it grate upon the ear.

So poet take both time and care,
To well-forge the flawless snare.
For an idea thou would hold,
Upon a page where all behold.

-PSM (Spring 2006)

Perhaps this is why all the stuff I feel is worth posting ends up sounding similar to people. I have to hammer it into some form first.

I can write.
Poems without meter without order.
But it always feels like I am,
Letting myself off easy.
Not putting in the effort.
Two things which mean the same thing.
Wasteful, sloppy.
Why is that?

-PSM (Spring 2006)
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