The Dabble, Of The Poetic Arts... Poem by Michael Gale

The dabble of the poetic arts...
Requires an arsonal, of the dictionaried parts.

Many great poets have come and gone...
Since the creation of the Sun and Dawn.

Poets have been born, only to die...
Some only hope, that loved ones will cry.

Some poets cared, of their work, was as good...
Comparetively praised, as one should hoped, it should.

Af't the time of my passing...
A-many a poem, will i have been amassing.

For quantity, sometimes is not the best...
To stand the critic's objectional timely test.

Quality, by me, is only what should be written and said...
After, i've gone, and am finally dead.

For on the 'morn, that my dusty ashes
have been spread in the wind...
You'll know, from high up above,
i'll have been sporting, a know-it-all
smile, as a laughabled, grin.