Sapiophile Poem by Hannington Mumo

I am torn between the sharpest of wits
And the glitter of extreme gentle grace
That lighter minds dub drop-dead beauty,
For which blunter blokes kill these days.

Witty lips do kiss the unseen giant within:
The peace that thrives away from the din;
But a honeyed mouth convulses the nerve
Of the wild instincts that brute aims serve.

Sharper wits are a sexy sight to behold,
A real refuge from vacuity's lulling noise;
Whilst those diverse gracious looks befog
Even the best minds and the clearest voice.

I thus would choose wit-bladed eyes
Over the mere lustrous look that dies;
That light glamor that gradually goes
As time's scythe more envious grows.

I'll love more than all the razor-edged gal,
She'll be my treasured confidante and pal.