Masterpoet To His Mistress Poem by gershon hepner

He’s a masterpoet, she’s
a mistress of her rhyming verses;
both of them compose with ease,
while each in the heart rehearses
staircase wit like hand grenades,
afterthoughts that come down crashing,
blarney on poetic blades
while the floods of thought are flashing.

Give an Oscar to the mistress,
as her flunkey flees to florists;
while correcting her and his stress,
both are mastermetaphorists,
working as a team in tandem,
Robert Browning with Ms. Barrett,
sticking with each other––hand ’em
for their pains not stick but carrot.

Lots of sames are there, but differents,
while imagination teems,
bring delight in their deliverance
from unconsciouness’s streams.

3/17/06