The Simple Poet

Grade school education
taught him little to nil
about tales of blizzards
prose, poetry and graced thrill
he knew little about rhyme
verses free verse , what not
well actually he knew
not at all, if the real
truth be told
he pouted quite childlike
whilst sorting
this issue clean thru
while deciding
that poetry
was for others to do
afterall
he knew not a sonnet
from bonnet, nor prose
from pose
nor anything like that
alas the injustice due
to one such as he
he pondered the play rules
whose allowed and
whose not,
while he heard words
within him
traipsing often and loud
saying this and then that
the words ceased for no man
nor did they still ever in time
even for a close friend
he grieved in embarrassment
not knowing what to do
then scribed them to parchment
'twas the least he could do
he knew not if value
rode saddled nor embraced his
words close
nor if poets read simple words
like he now did pen
in hoped worth crudely bred
he suspected great
laughter should arise
from his words
so simple and telling
of his lack of self worth
he struggled inside
despotic entities railing
sharp maniacal laughing out loud
he could not hear through their
laughter so loud
his heart screaming in small
yet imbued
in hoped stature wealthy, bright
and standing tall
all he possessed were his words
glazed in light
light yes
for they had endured
decades of bathing, wrapped tight
in black night
light bright did become him
as he penned and never
looked back
a poet!
yes, the demons did indeed
laugh right out loud
and louder than that
yet he penned his small poem
as a gradeschooler would
for the first time in like kind
he considered the worth
of his words painted
in simple, dwarfed and small,
whilst he compared them to others
who's words stood quite fancy and tall
oh, he knew in his simplicity
that one cant compare tall to small
for one overlooks the other
never even seeing the small
so he clutched the quill
held clumsy as hammer
in hand
and painted the first words that
climbed ladder to hearts lips
I stroke not in beauty
nor in grace I dare say,
yet my words demand audience
as I have given them this day
for they battle within me,
when I pen them up tight
and cause dreary to walk
upon my pillow's flight of night
no choice but to free them
know no other way
so excuse my crude words
that I do pen this day
I know they dress badly
attired in simple, base and crude
yet they begged, cried and pleaded
to play romp in the sun,
yes
the parchment their playground
the audience their sun.
they know not their simple
for they are simple you see
these words spawned, and offspring of
soul
so forbid them I could not
as they gleefully made their debut
in the sun steeped in light
I hope all treat them kindly,
my yes, children my words
for they know not they are
simple
for only I do you see
so if you see them
on the playground
dancing twirling in place
don't serve them disgrace
for they know not that they are planted
in barefoot and simple and base
and stand not in etched grace
for all they know
is their friend
yes
the parchment their playground
and audience
sun's face