Hvide Poem by Edward Kofi Louis

Hvide, he, hive, hide, hid!
In deep night with the muse of light for his sight;
the insight of his works.
Hire, heir!
Once one is born, one is about to face death!
Either in the early hours or, later on with his or her age;
Bet, bat, but, bit!
Life had never been straight with him;
Since he was born.
Earth, dearth!
Up-close,
Gentle and wavy like a wheat field;
Ear, earth!
Located,
With something for everyone.