Poet's Ode Poem by Michael Gale

Nicely done, were Yon words
That flew faster to screen than
those fastest of birds.

Peck, peck, pecking to keys ahead
Like fingers, all alive and still
moving - not dead.

We have the job to put
into words, and sayings
Thought and phrases and
praises, in all the deaths
and life filled sayings.

We are the poets and seekers
of truth
We compose them all in
roughness or be they smooth.

In the end, where they land
By Our brains and
unbar - gained brand.

Ever be thy beau tied rest
To stand a testament of eternal,
time's best.