Hope and Poems

 

I wanted to write a sonnet

That singed like a comet

Dramatic, screaming damn it

Worth fourteen gold karat

 

I wanted to write a play

Be the Hellman of today

My scenes would inveigh

And sear and scorch and splay

 

I wanted to write a polemic

Pummeling and prophetic

A prince of the heretic

With an acid hot aesthetic

 

I’d write a manifesto

A brazen, furious bellow

As sonorous as a cello

As fresh as springtime’s meadow

 

But all I write are quatrains

That every teacher disdains

But my sentiments are not feigned

The pain is true and engrained

 

Copyright, David Gottfried, 2003

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