I only wish that I were smarter. Smarter is a starter That can help in dealing with a matter; Bring awareness to the whole. (be it bowl or foal or jowl or vowel).
Yet I’m smart enough to roll Around inside my head Things read, things said - And without knowing where I‘m going, Using synthesis and heart, Get to some conclusion I’d no inkling at the start.
With detachment But not distant or aloof, It becomes a state where mind dictates With fairness, and then, ****! Seeing sides that I’d not guessed were there, There they are, staring me right in the face, The space filled with but one desire: To write an excellent poem!
Using homely word formation, Something in me tackling issues From the street talk of my childhood station. To cues taken the abstruseness.
With the first idea a preconception, And a gift for self-reflection. It’s a doubly living counterpart: One not-really-smart facade Echoing the outside bard, And one that always looks inside And finds a chord That’s fresh and new (or one or two). A movement of improvement.
Being cool is part Of being smart. A clue To an innate IQ That doesn’t always show Until you grow into it.