Portrait Of A Poet

The poet looked at what he wrote, The rhythm and the rhyme And of each error he took note, Correcting each in time... His diligence was his best friend, It helped him to relay The English most could comprehend So that they wouldn't stray... The poet counted syllables, Eight, six, eight, six each verse, For these obeyed his rhyming rules And helped him to rehearse... You see, he spoke the lines out loud, As if the Lord to hear, As if to make his Father proud, With diction crystal clear... The poet shed a tear at last, Because his work was done, For every test the poem passed... The battle had been won! The publishers were well impressed! In fact, he won first prize! With diligence, he'd done his best... That's always good advice! He taught his children how to write! So they'd get published, too... With pearls of wisdom and insight, So credit where it's due... His poems were in magazines And books both near and far, Yet skills like his weren't in his genes, He simply raised the bar... Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2011.