I Would Be A Poet... Poem by john coldwell

My words shall be gemstones, precious and few
Chosen for clarity, for depth and for hue
I’ll set them in memories, with artful design
That sparkle with meaning, transcendent of time

I’ll choose the deep rhythms of blood’s pulsing flow
That vital life’s metronome, no angel can know
Or stirring loud drumbeats that call us to war
Or gentle tap tappings of ghosts at the door

From polar extremes and in fragments of dreams
From all the four winds, I’ll seek out my themes
Of love, life and death, and nature’s invention
Let Heaven inspire, and let hell take convention

I’ll l watch for a twinkle in the eye of creation
For as novel a notion as has ever been written
I’ll spear with delight, bright flashes in motion
That play on the surface of my subconscious ocean

May my poems add coinage to the treasures of art
And would that I know it before I depart
Even so be it, only after I’ve gone
May their joys, be there any, for sometime live on

And may they fall freshly on the parched lips of boredom
As the mists that rise early, or the dew drops of Eden
But If all can think of is plain and banal
Then let my ink be dried up, I’ll write nothing at all.