We write what we perceive in rhyme And call it poetry' Each line vivid, picturesque As poetry should be.
It's blissful love, or a weeping groan A hearty laugh, or a content moan. A rolling farmland void of grain.
With auburn hair the farmer's daughter plain.
A summer sweat or winter chill Blazing fall leaves,
A pretty spring daffodil A coiled snake in tall meadow grass Gabriel's horn of golden brass
Poetry is awesome in it's power The pen mightier then the sword. And for those inspired by what they read It is the essence of every word.
