What is it that a poet needs:
On what subjects does he feed?
For what type causes does he bleed;
And pickings are easy 'twixt flowers and weeds?
Is there a spirit inspiring him;
A nagging ambition retiring him;
A task too arduous, perspiring him?
Or maybe the need is re-wiring him!?
On what shelves does he glean
For new ideas to fill his bean?
Which are the oldies that he must wean
Let them die; or let them be seen?
Up and down in frowns and glances;
Words thet wear in passing fancies
Of thoughts that spin like dervish ...