You Know It Makes Sense

The poet jingle-jangled words, Like rockets from his brain, His effervescent thoughts escaped And crashdived on the page... He picked them up and stirred them round Like alphabetic soup, Until nobody got the jist, Just jingle-jangled gloop... He offered verse like precious gold To every soul he met, So folks explored his jumbled jive And started to reflect... They wondered, is this poetry? They wondered, what on Earth? Their puzzled looks then made him think, Do my words have true worth? A few years later, all had changed, He was respected now, Because his words were rearranged And structured well somehow... His brand new poems read out loud Brought so much joy, you see And thus he walked with head held proud, Loved for his poetry...