A Canadian's Poem(1)
and what, after all,
was so wrong
with simple rhyme
and quaint folk
ballads of love?
have poets often
not been first
burst to spot
shape still forming from ground
dipped diamond-tipped pens
in pools of time
stirring up
currents of insights
that grew, in course
of time to waves?
do we not
compose,
solely for handfuls
of loyal listeners
bubblings up wellsprings,
words
meant merely to delight
and entertain the mind
moving heart to very muscle?
but what have all these labours
by we self-confessed saviours,
the 'unacknowledged legislators
of the world'*
produced?
a laugh or two?
maybe even a few
bucks on the side?
a moment's pride?
[...] Read more
poem by Doug Bentley
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