The Poet

My love affair with rhyme began in grade school written on slips of paper in the quiet hours of night. Next the verse found space in notebooks through high school and college and my workaday world. When the first journal found its way to my pen is hidden in a remote corner of my memory presently inaccessible.

Today the lovely books are stacked among my treasures in countless places. And with the age of digital files they are quite randomly scattered in doc, pdf, etc. The question is from where did they come? Perhaps the answer can be found in a poem written some years ago that  I will gladly share with you.

The Gift

 Verse comes to the mind of the poet The mystery of some bit of truth Flowing from the mind of Truth itself To an unworthy poet Who has left the mind’s door ajar To receive this gift Tied with the bow called  poetry And given that others might know The joy of untying the knot  To glimpse the Giver.

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