Ya know,

I’ve tried to decipher

some other poets poetry

but can’t.

It seems to me

they strive to make

a goddess of

obscurity!

Why must poems be writ

like puzzles with missing pieces

to defy even the wisest

puzzle master?

Poets create disaster

where they might have wrought

a simple harmony

of sound and sight

and a sweet taste

of honey dripping from the spoon

or the tart taste of my wife…

after…

lingering on my tongue.

Well,

you get the idear.

All a poem needs

to be a poem

is to be writ

near

to the heart.