The Poet Is Like A Farmer


Start with the tiniest seed of an idea;
Put into soil of words packed lightly around,
It begins to sprout.
A tiny plant breaks the soil and grows.
Dug around gently, added images that fertilize; carefully worked in,
Adding to growth,
A stalk of verse is born.

Sunlight of diction carefully controlled until it can bear full
light,
The stalk thickens with life-giving juices of thought.
Uncontrolled growth stretches in all directions.
Ungainly limbs and branches of phrases and clauses get in the way
of clean thought.
Prune them back.
Cut without mercy unnecessary verbiage that saps the healthy plant
Until only the fruit-bearing idea remains--strong, purposeful,
beautiful,
Thoughts bearing fruit never before tasted--
Rich succulent, adding to the reader's (and the writer's) experiences
of life,
Creating beauty, or strength, or understanding that did not before
exist --
A harvest given by God to those willing to do the work of creation
In the fertile soil of mind and heart.

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