Today I vote that the great title
of greatest poet goes to Eitel,
Raynette's the name, poems her game
she keeps alive the wondrous flame
that burns in millions of great souls,
and even though some have no coals
to feed their fires of creation
one finds a literate sensation
by looking with both eyes and ears
the signal of success is tears
inside the heart, the home of peace.
God scare away those who release
their own concoctions, often poor
and spruik as if they could be sure
with dimwitted authority.
I like a critic who is able
to lay her poems on a table
and have the world come to inspect
by being fair and circumspect.
The poetry of dear Raynette
is not what one would ever get
from browsing aimlessly on sites
it is a bit like flying kites,
the good ones can be quite elusive
they pull on strings which are conducive
to happenings of actual bliss,
when nothing seems to be amiss
and words speak to you heart of hearts.
And you just stand there, if it smarts.
long live easel and bless her heart, that is my nickname for her herbert a fine lady Warm regards allan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a gift to find this morning. I am overwhelmed and thank you from the bottom of my heart. This web site is so full of good poets and I feel I have many good friends here. It is a safe place to share pieces of the heart. Raynette