To all poets writing hourly poem I offer my unqualified admiration Place them with honor in my hall of fame For truly glorifying our poetic nation.*
They keep the windows open never shut the mind’s door Can’t suppress them schedules of work hectic daily chore For who knows when the sky passes by stops dead the falling rain Uncared a feeling rolls by goes unaddressed angst of pain!
Isn’t a rainbow painted out there on doorstep waiting the season A bird is chirping the song of hope giving life a compelling reason Isn’t a face waiting to be seen love pining to be released from a heart Who knows when dies a river midstream each moment’s scenes depart!
The farther these poets go they dream for a farther reach To hunt out the dark demons blind alley’s fearsome witch Who knows when the light goes out burns out the fiery sun This body turns to trails in dust with so much little yet done!