Poetry's... ummm... 'Best'?


Amid a celebration of poetry's 'best',
Said to honor those of significance,
Words chose to mill among the invited guests
And was stunned by their perceived importance..

Sirs Ink and Pen were caught in fierce debate
Of the merits each brought to poetry,
While Paper mused at its own worthiness
And Muse papered the room with opinions.
As Pathos groaned and Passion moaned,
Prose and Rhyme argued, each declaring
Themselves Masters of the poetic rules.
Words overheard bits and snatches...

'A poem sublime is defined by rhyme'
'All should be free in poetry!'

Meter heard too but merely smiled,
Danced on iambic feet and tiptoed
Away into a sonnet's dream.

And so it was that after a toast
Of Imagery's wine, where each guest
Boasted, declared their own importance,
Ignoring the power of Words altogether,
That Words bid them all a sweet adieu
And with a mischievous wink
Named Silence as Master of Ceremonies.