How is poetry measured, then?
Is there some guide or scale?
Decided by the kings of men,
Or maybe just one male?
Or how translation works its charm,
From one heart to the next?
Perchance to share some peaceful calm
Or leave us all perplexed?
How is poetry measured, then?
Is there some golden rule
That short, sharp phrases rhyme again,
As that proves really cool?
Or full of thees and thous and such?
Archaic and verbose?
Or up-to-date and so in touch,
New wisdom overflows?
How is poetry measured, then?
By publishers with cash?
Or free style verse beyond our ken,
That comes across as trash?
Or optimistic to a fault,
Like Heaven's everywhere?
Or bringing such thoughts to a halt,
As sinners just don't care?
I only know that when I write,
I try to do my best,
To share each wisdom and insight
So everybody's blessed...
If that's the measure poets seek,
Then poetry survives,
To bring its gift that's so unique
That it can change our lives...
Denis Martindale July 2016.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem