A poem by Beverly Stock.
Read only rhyme, hand-picked for you
Rhyme is calming and it soothes
Yet, I’m holding tombs of fiction
My gaffe and contradiction.
Fiction is fib and invention
Dream and prevarication
I want versification
Balladry and intonation.
Poets sense a molient pulse
Use words with zeal and tremor
Writing with articulate wealth
Measured in feet and meter.
I am a novice, truth be told
Roused by sage women poets
Wheatley, Lydia Child, and Moore
And, Emily Dickinson lore.
“Over the River and Through the
Woods,” penned near 1800.
By Child, sung by tradition.
Women poets, my inspiration.