Poet To Poet Version 1 Poem by Rob Clarke

Father, father! Tell me, what must I do?
What must I say to be compared with you?
Express with words what lies within my heart?
Bare my soul for all the world to see?
For, confused, I cannot act the part
That men may look with favour upon me.
For I fear the unkind ridicule
Of those who suffer not a well meant fool.


Old Poet to Young Poet:

Sons and daughters will be who they are
Be it lowly stone or luminescent star.
The basest fool can find a tale to tell.
A poem, a song that helps to ease the day,
Drawn as if sweet water from cool well.
Some stranger on the road may find the way
Through guidance from perspective not his own
And persever to win his own road home.

Young Poet to Old Poet:

But tell me where in all the universe
Soars the sonnet, hides small yet comely verse
To quicken souls all but devoid of hope?
Where resides the sentence, word or pharse
Allowing those who fear with fear to cope;
That lightens load or brightens weary days?
Words that heal the lonely, broken heart
Would I enscribe but know not where to start.

Old Poet to Young Poet:

Seek of thyself and to thyself be true
Is all the world may ever ask of you.
The universe reveals to whom she will
Her secrets and her charms sublime.
Magics, fantasies and epics to instill
A sense of wonder time on countless time.
Bares she her all to those with eyes to see;
Who can descern with word her mystery.

Incidently, kid. Lose the highbrow grammar.
Nobody bloody talks this way anymore...

And get a haircut.

Robert Clarke
Copyright 2006