A Poet I Am Not Poem by Robert Harrison

A poet I am not, tho' perchance some word,
Some phrase or picture painted with symbols
Of accepted poetic beauty, has pleased the mind,
Even the very soul of some sympathetic reader.
Who by chance stumbles upon that which in
Their desire to discover some remembrance of
A forgotten past, some assurance that the romance
Of words still has power in their interpretation, to
Bring back that, which was lost. In faith, the age of
The romantic verse still has influence to please, too
Bind up the bleeding heart of some remembered love.
Therefore with furrowed brow I write that which is
Within myself all that is pent up, all that is seeking
A blessed release, to be set out in some congenial
Appearance, some pleasurable design, either to be
Accepted or to be rejected. No matter the outcome,
The unspoken word is written, the gates of their

A poet I am not, tho perchance some word,
Some phrase or picture painted with symbols
Of accepted poetic beauty has pleased the mind,
Even the very soul of some sympathetic reader.
Who by chance stumbles upon that which in
Their desire to discover some remembrance of
A forgotten past, some assurance that the romance
Of words still has power in their interpretation, to
Bring back that, which was lost. In faith, the age of
The romantic verse still has influence to please, too
Bind up the bleeding heart of some remembered love.
Therefore with furrowed brow I write that which is
Within myself all that is pent up, all that is seeking
A blessed release, to be set out in some congenial
Appearance, some pleasurable design, either to be
Accepted or to be rejected. No matter the outcome,
The unspoken word will be written, the gate of their
prison will be opened, and having been so move on.

is opened, and having been so move on.