Poetry's My Armament And Muse Poem by Patti Masterman

Poetry's my armament and muse;
I wield her- both amusing and profuse.
She keeps the bore many lengths away,
As he's confused by her- too much to say.

The ambitious too, have no use for her,
And yes-men simply sit, and stroke her fur.
As weapon, she is far beyond complaint;
A catapult for fools, when they feel faint.

A line frustrates the most obnoxious gossip,
Who feels like something's fallen in her pocket;
It's burning her with news she can't decode-
She feels it slip away- and does that goad!

My poetry unlocks me like a key,
And keeps closer, the ones that those should be-
It screens like Emily's poem, society-
And shuts out undesired company.