Poetry Poem by Nick Kasparie

A letter on a paper is a pretty petty thing
If just a few are added then some words will coalesce
And from the words come stanzas as our poem starts to dress
With similes to follow and a meter for the ring
Yet this has no significance if we’re afraid to sing
For if prose is for the speaker, then poetry’s for song
From Poe came ravens squawking and from Maya, the caged bird
But this was no coincidence as doubtless we’ve all heard
The bird’s beak is for singing, and I think it’s truly strong
As is a pen in poet’s hand where surely it belongs