An Old Poet was he;
sitting under a mighty
oak tree.
He wonders if he could ever
write a poem as revered as;
Joyce Kilmer's poem; “A Tree.”
He has written hundreds of poems
during his life so long, but none
as captivating as Walt Whitman's,
“Leaves of Grass.” sweet and forlorn.
He's penned love poems galore,
but nothing as romantic as Emily Dickinson's
“A Charm Invests a Face” and many more.
He's written of war, but nothing as dramatic
as; Col. John McCrae's, “Fields Of Poppies.”
He has put pen to paper; writing of many thing
on many planes but recognition has yet to find
his name. Fame and fortune seems to have
forever escaped his hidden claims.
He often wonders if he shall ever write
a poem so unique it will place his name
among the poets so long elite.
Never the less, the unknown poet continues
to pen on paper his very best in hopes that
someday, his name will shine with all the rest.
