The Satisfying Poet

The one that rhymes,

cadence happy fellow.

when forever seems attractive,

a silent dawn really quiet,

a mountaintop filled with glorified promise,

a valley below that suggested,

a passing fancy drawn

by a river of gold.


We can believe

our hearts are sold

to the highest progression

of internal rhyme,

the ability for our soul

to be penetrated by syntax;

affection, passion,

a sordid list of precarious

descriptors all seemingly

driven by the power

of an opportunist spilling



I once knew a gentleman

who rhymed a silly song,

and when I tried to dig deeper,

unleashed a fleshy wound

of hypocritical malice,

my words were not well received.


I complained,

the world heard my voice

alter its tone,

suggest an otherwise,

once again,

there was little needed

in the realm of life-changing



I wonder sometimes,

if there ever really has been

a time we could all

agree in verse,

trade our wholesale value

for the sake of

listening to the one,

the place holder

that began our journey



Sometime we might be asked

to let go of a fear,

allow it to fester,

like a Hughes memorial

to growing up in hatred,

only to live our lives,

the way we wanted to

if only,

just if we could maybe,

believe we might,

for only a couple of hours.


2 responses to “The Satisfying Poet

Please I would love you to share words, suggestions ...

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