Here sits the poet The scribe of the times Rendering the wordless Into heart-rending rhymes. Listen to the poet Who says what most do not. Pay attention closely And see what the poet has got.
Sometimes you listen, Then must listen once more, Because hidden inside Might be the words to a score. Only you don’t yet hear The music it is playing Because you are still listening To the words they are saying.
And, sometimes you must While reading the second time Be careful not to penalize Because the words don’t rhyme. It is often about the cadence, The way the words dance along, That turns the words from prose To the beginnings of a song.
The poet’s job is to treat you With a bit more than just language To give you all the artistry That the spoken word can manage. So we use things like spacing And often joyous syncopation To achieve your attention And catch your imagination.
Whether in a limerick Or in a soothing lullaby We do our best to slip things Like satisfaction past your eyes. We are, after all, artists Who take what you have heard And use that to entice you To fall in love with the spoken word.