With Precision Poem by Ernestine Northover

As all my words weave themselves together,
Every verse arrives on the scene.
Furnished and burnished to such perfection,
With punctuation in between.

Stories that are really a knock-out,
Lines flowing easily on course,
Could all these writes be worth shouting about,
Appearing from a well known source.

I try with precision to set their shape,
Appeal, in each poem to find.
Poetry that everyone can enjoy,
Things that can so surely spellbind.

These woven pieces are a joy to mould,
And when they’re finally complete.
A warm feeling enters my aging heart,
And so, I find a fresh blank sheet.


© Ernestine Northover