The Neo

19 May
the poet-bard lost their language amid the drama of night
of which, still flashes the words to fizzle from sight

until the pink agent is stalled, stilted dumb
this poet-bard who once sang of everything 

when now, perplexed by the singing sung
again, may find the urge to kindle the fire of his tongue

the cloven flame vibrating above his dome
to yet sing the celestial hymn, its radiance intone

of the intricate creation of all
to query, to unmask everything to what is now

too minimal, she ridiculed his Dodge Colt life 
with her BMW Z series sports car strife

to the poet, plainness is a wealth
and ponderousness, often their ill-health

he kept subtracting --letting go of more 
and even dumped offering the critiquing score

Is the poet bereft of words a poet or bard?
this writing rad thinker once sight-marred

the neo spotted blind the dying coal
then fanning orange, a tiny spark relit the core

a new breathtaking wonder inflamed
the neo-poet prophetic bard unchained

*all in iambic pentameter, blank verse, alternate rhyme
2.1 8/5
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson    
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Posted by on May 19, 2022 in Poetry


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