Poem, A Beast Of Heart

Poetry, what a unique beast of heart! Proxy words, nor surrogates to replace, Seamless when they fit with whole work of art, Wilt one and wound her weary soul, her grace, Change a comma, syllable to the least, And poor beast goes breathless body and soul, Tease it, nor tinker this touch-me-not beast, A lady frail, she's temperamental. Teacher art thou— training poetic pen? Pray paraphrase her not in so much pain, A pompous prose might try much as it can, It gets none her soul, sheer body and brain. Nor ever try a poem to translate, Try and see if you can it recreate. ____________________________________ ______________ Sonnets | 02.08.08 |