Friday, February 21, 2014

Of Flint, Be 

Would my words ignite, if I of flint, be ?
Would my verse billow, if west winds blew free ?

Would rhymes ring loudly, as iron strikes steel ?
Would my muse enthuse, if less wordy, feel ?

Would couplets surface, if in magma, yet ?
Would rhythm inspire, if no fuse, be set ?

Would craters irrupt, or heaven's poems, spew ?
Would Earth's mantel crack, if posies were true ?

Could I attest these improbable dreams -
Will you see through my insidious schemes ?

Ronald C. Downie

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