Never treat a poem, my friend, as a thing you set out to create,
If you do the result will be little, or none, and more often than not too late,

Respect the verse as an entity preexisting somewhere in your mind,
Let the already finished, but unseen work, its way thru your fingers unwind,

You'll hear all the words as if thru a babbling brook and the meaning will move you,
They'll fall into place, as you pull up your chair, gingerly, thoughtfully hove to,

Try to anticipate rhythm and sound, but don't let effort creep in,
Feel tintinnabulation of rhyme and the beat that's its partner and kin,

There's always the kicker that comes at the end -- never fails to seem a surprise,
No matter how often you've seen it before, it will loom right in front of your eyes.

                                                            by D. Edgar Murray