I wish my poetry
was as smooth as satin
but it comes out paltry and salty
like coarse sand paper
trying to polish sin
my words grate and grind
lie on paper thin pages
work against the grain and tide
if only slick was what I find
my words would surely then
have something more
or less to hide
when these smitten lines
don't meet perfection
when I've scribbled words
that need correction
making war and peace
wield all my spears and swords
some cutting edge
others dull and dry
I wish these poems
I write and pledge
would make my readers
sad enough to cry
I wish these temperate zones
I find myself roaming in
dredge up tones
that make us
want to curl up and die
if I could only hone my skills
to a razors edge and something fine
if only my poems could make us
want to live good life and prospect love
as well as make us red-faced and angry
enough to make us want to destroy and kill
perhaps my wishes would come true
if my words could speak
to me as well as you
perhaps these thoughts
I think would help me
find those words and lines
that are brutally frank
as well as being truthfully rank
verse that speaks of spirit and signs
poems that are maybe even sometimes kind

                        * * *