Poetry Speaks For Itself

Be it simple first attempt;
A fleeting few lines of emotion.
Or grand ballet of metaphor,
Rhythm, and articulation.
Connection, pretension,
Or sullen, sad reflection.

The wandering mind's ethereal dream,
Trapped by thought conceived,
Anchored to paper by a feeble,
Inadequate tool of written verse,
Never fully mastered.

No matter. New poem,
You are a precious life conceived,
Perfection in unique perspective,
The unheard voice of soul.


by Rodney Alan Crater
Copyright ©2006 Rodney Alan Crater