MAKING A POEM
Those potencies I’ve yet to realize,
Still deeply lodged within my mind and soul,
I aim, before I go, to exercise,
For being an artful maker is my goal.
Since I’ve been gifted with a verbal knack,
Then poetry’s a natural enterprise
Which I shall work at daily, never slack,
Discovering what lines I might devise,
For only when I sit to contemplate,
My writing pad poised ready on my lap,
May I expect my Muse to compensate
My pains to pen a poem for which you’ll clap.
If this one that you just now gaze upon
Is not that kind, I’ve more—so please read on.