i heard the grape leaves chiming

punctuation is for perverts
who want to see all a poem’s secrets
revealed and sprawled before them

capitalization is for lazy capitalists
who want every word’s value
blatantly branded on the label

would you wrangle prime words to engage
those who will only read your book
on faces when it’s played out in a theatre
your words but shadows on the stage

let plucky people shout
poetry is all about
prose and decent diction
perhaps a work of blatant fiction

a poet would procure a sail
tempt you to cast off by mail
tease you to take the tiller in your hand
watch as you fight great waves sailing dry sand

a poet would cast a spark
shout a word to cause you hark
your mind a wealthy well of oxygen
mem’ries a crucible of tinder wanton

it is you who write the story
you who weave lush tapestry
the writer merely sells the thread
your engagement breathes life into cotton dead

no reader is a canvas blank
we all have ink writ on plush and plank
great sea of colors ‘tween poe and prose
’tis you who render thorn or rose

ten tales torturously trite
but bright glowing gems alike
minds’ eyes weave with time’s arrow
paint with brushes broad and narrow

i want a poem that takes us on a ride
pairs pert and plethoric pentameter in stride
although poets’ pens nothing have to hide
we whisper with them as an aside

growing grearily in green garden
meandering grapevine overtook caesalpinia pulcherrima
and up his branches grew with twining and subliming
i heard the grape leaves chiming fragrant rap and rhyming

About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
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