Who ought to be called a poet? A writer who can rhyme?
Who picks out best words to show it? Whose words are quite sublime?
Or just the child with limericks? The old man all alone?
Or wordsmiths with their bags of tricks? Or bards thought as well-known?
Is it the lonely bachelor who from his longing sighs?
Is it the preaching minister revealing why Christ dies?
Is it restricted to the great and wisest of us all?
Is it the saints who celebrate a precious miracle?
Is it the nature lover, too, who walks the forest still?
Or mountaineer who sees the view upon some yonder hill?
Is it the man who sees the stars and seeks to praise the Lord?
Is it the guy who plays guitars and seems to strike a chord?
Or is it only me, dear friends, of all humanity,
Who types away or uses pens to share new poetry?
Or are you worthy of acclaim? Are you a poet, too?
If so, the Lord must know your name and all the good you do…

Denis Martindale April 2018.