Genethliac - Poem by Harley White
Carpe diem? sweet, yet meet? … whimsical? smart? how do I start? …
On a birthday, it's worth saying something special from the heart.
While I've penned all kinds of rhymes— ahead, behind the times, a range—
Some in verse that's terse, some florid, others horrid, stanzas strange…
Here are couplets spare, to share a word about aesthetic voice
And tell of those who, heaven knows, feel impelled. These have no choice.
Force driven, from a passion given or a pull linguistic,
They have to make their plea— to make us see— by means artistic.
To psyches nourish with a flourish to seek heights where dreams dare—
Souls entice through words' device— takes more than mere inventive flair.
Although Joyce's knack most lack or Molly Bloom's, yes, claim to fame…
Still a spark might light that could ignite a literary flame.
When in dim creative burn, one struggles just to turn the page—
Push on to… and puzzle through… a painful poem's final stage.
Midst seas of jocund companies, I would seek to speak from shore,
Hope to leave behind a line of mine that wasn't there before…
Meantime delight in what is left, each strophe deft… to the end…
Where we blind may find someday someway unwinds beyond that bend…
I'll stop the Harley parley now— sing appreciation ‘cheers'…
For encore add, ‘many more birthdays galore… and relished years! '
(March 2010 - Granada, Spain)
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