The world of poetry, what our modern times produce
Leaves me no hope, no urge to peruse.
What most deem as poems – really, a sad excuse..
Something to be sentenced and hung by the noose..
But in this hopeless world, I’m pleased when I find
An art in poetry that but few have designed
I’m refreshed once again, guess the Lord is still kind;
I’m moved by neural sparks induced by words refined
-Like those of the old poets! These kids today
Write elongated sentences and in stanzas lay
What they call art; I just read in dismay
Spark-less, rhyme-less thoughts! with no form or array..
I’m grateful to you guys; you’re great, you truly are.
I’m reminded once again and have gladly found the bar
Is set high as it should - the work of few and far,
Poets, who so rare, I hope to write on par