But Is It
Right down within the depths of me
there lies a vein of poetry
Wherein I find when I have leisure
words which are my greatest treasure.
Words with which I can fashion verse
some silken smooth and some perverse
Each one is chosen carefully
then put together artfully.
I find them raw and unrefined
then with the power of my mind.
I create intricate designs
of words that some idea defines.
A poet is an artisan
who follows carefully a plan
that’s handed down from days of yore.
Which many men have used before.
To create formal poetry
to demonstrate their artistry.
Perchance I sometimes get it right
in verses which I choose to write.
I can imagine nothing worse
for those of us who write in verse
Than poetry which does not scan
and lacks all structure, has no plan.
Just words which incoherently
are juxtaposed haphazardly
. Which critics now suppose to be
the future form of poetry.