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The Poet's Toil

If ease is instant gratification
Poetry is impossible hardship
If peace is born from pacification
Then of writing, war has guardianship
Forcing the stubborn words onto the page
Is little easier than reversing
The will of one who is of a young age
Calliope’s blessings, rare dispersing,
Volatile Erato’s erratic gifts
Endowments to make a vast impression
And Polyhymnia’s veil seldom lifts
Stubborn sister Muses of expression
But though words refuse to strike the right chord
From a great challenge comes a great reward.




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