In spring, new poems rove about in bands.
They seek a hapless poet who can
Birth them, writhing to the ears of man.
So just stay in the winter of poetry land.
As soon as new poems you begin to glean,
Be very careful when you open the door,
For soon they will jostle, and push more and more.
Can’t cook, nor wash, nor even clean.
Strike a balance about their lengths.
From far, they seem small, as they tend to curl,
But watch out when they begin to unfurl.
Don’t be afraid to show your strength.
When they strike you with unusual verbs or nouns,
Tell them to make an appointment with you
At a civil hour. Then you’ll give them their due.
Refuse to write out all the words raining down.
Strong ones will drag you in their tow.
When you decline to pen verses at their whim,
They’ll learn to stop singing their nightly hymns.
So refuse to follow like a scared doe.
