A sonnet, flowing words upon the page,
with pre-existing form and structure clear,
impedes no image dancing on the ear,
enticing heart of Lover, mind of Sage.
So loose the beasts of poesie from their cage
and look upon them fairly, not with fear,
easing forward, inching to be near
a final hope where once was only rage.
For none is clearly out of any's reach
if Faith conducts the passage through that door.
The greatest writers past could only teach
aspiring writers confidence to pour
with such undaunted pow'r releasing each
a flow'ring bud, producing hundreds more!
Thu May 3, 1979