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.

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