--The Poet’s Voice --
John Herlihy
The poem as a puzzle,
Sweet meaning to find.
To unlock the muzzle,
That inhibits the mind.
The inspired idea is born,
Window in a closed room.
From an encasement torn,
Unfolded petals to bloom.
Words lie silent on a page,
Drawn of a feathered quill.
Visionary wisdom of a sage,
Soft whispers that linger still.
The poet’s voice a wind chime,
Captured in meter and rhyme.
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Copyright ©John Herlihy
Saturday 31 December 2022
Rebecca