A Poem In Progress

Poetry is a tree that stands alone Till it matures fully grown Little by little it adds from birth Watered by emotions full of worth Nourished with words simple and complete Creating rhythm and internal beat Capable of saying things quite profound Sublime Rhymes and ideas abound Early or late we think and create And wait for words that relate Sometimes inspiration can be quick as summer lightening But brilliant ideas don’t always flow So in the end we may reap what we sow It stands to reason no matter what you do Sometimes there will be no rhyme in any season Even with revision it ends up all the same And the poem begins to sound pretty lame If it turns out bad we have no one to blame But all things being the same All we have left is personal satisfaction We end up with elation or with a retraction