Monday, June 27, 2016


                    I write a poem not to speak my mind,
                    Informing others what I have to say,
                    But rather, it’s a way for me to find
                    Elusive thoughts that otherwise would stay
                    Inchoate and aloof without this mode
                    Of rattling my brain to shake things loose
                    During my early morning episode
                    When, pen in hand, I call upon the Muse—
                    And rarely am I left without reply
                    Because, I think, implicit in this form
                    Of metrical and rhyming verse there lie
                    Latent ideas that will awake and swarm:
                        The paradox is that by what I’m bound
                        I’m freed to see what I’d have never found.