Poetry challenge: Didatic poem.
Words wrapped into stanza in perfect coil
The scheme of all schemes lay at this apple’s core
a-b-a-b-b-c-c, poet’s foil
The sharpest blade in poet’s chest of war
Rusted because it isn’t used anymore
Now thought of as peculiar, odd and quite queer
Lost in text collecting dust year after year
An exercise of mind, labour and toil
That the words might take flight and like eagle soar
Thicken the broth that is brought to a boil
Count each grain of sand on the Nubian shore
Nurturing bloom from every seed and spoor
In modern age lip service rings insincere
Bard rolls over in his grave and sheds a tear
Cancerous agents we spread over soil
When the roots die off po-e-tree is no more
The heart of the art left to rot and spoil
Buried in book olden golden precious ore
Now rarer than the mythical beasts of lore
The curse of free verse cacophony to ear
Begrudges ink with unsightly smudge and smear
Written in tradition of Rhyme Royal
As did bard and wandering troubadour
Adhere to form and to roots remain loyal
To sweat out poetry from every pour
As they did in years by gone and days of yore
Truth is there is no modern poetic peer
Would you dispute Chaucer, Spenser or Shakespeare?
Poet's Corner 