THE OLD POET
By John Herlihy

The old poet has no remorse,
Only a little regret, of course.
In pinning feeling to the page,
He seeks to emulate a sage.
He sees a light in every weave,
Sorrow inspires him to grieve.
As each moment does unravel,
His words resound like a gavel.
Find wisdom in the world’s face,
Raw emotions in the human race.
He travels from North to South,
Enters the door of Hell’s mouth.
To taste all the miseries therein,
To know the recompense of sin.
Then he travels to Heaven’s gate,
Until the appointed hour will wait.
All experience he wishes to taste,
One poem at a time, with no haste.
To interpret what the senses reveal,
Unleash secrets our minds conceal.