…for that’s the way that poetry goes… <br />and goes…mere pose, tapped out as prose… <br /> <br />Yes, most of us, these days, undisciplined, <br />approach the temple of pure poetry, <br />when some thought stirs in deepest heart and mind, , <br />with all the earthy tread of careful prose… <br /> <br />yet with a certain hope, a faith, a love, <br />a purity of heart – that if we tread - <br />unmetered and unrhymed petitioners - <br />as pilgrims, sackclothed, ashen from the urn <br />of some poetic crematorium; <br /> <br />that, as we stumble on the heart’s true path, <br />the Muse, with long and patient, weary sigh, <br />- the music of the ages in her ears - <br />will catch up with our steps along the road <br />and guide us to that sacred, lovely place <br />where, with a gasp – our verses dropt from hand – <br />we’ll be where goodness, truth and beauty dance <br />and sing and laugh and love – now three; now one. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />(thanks, WD)<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0039-well-chop-my-prose/
