The Poet

I know I'm a horrible blogger. I know it's been a very long time since I posted. I know you're giving me a sad, reproachful look right now. I'm sorry.

As I mentioned to my mother-in-law recently,, being a poet and being a blogger are very similar. The goal is to reach a point where one finds inspiration in the beauty of even the most humdrum, everyday item or happening. I consider myself both poet and blogger, and I have decidedly not reached the goal.

However, while inspiration evades me, I thought I'd continue a habit from my old blog and share bits of favorite poetry every once in a while. Christopher Morley is a poet I've enjoyed for a very long time, and here is a little gem of his.

                                                  The Poet

                                ~By Christopher Morley

 THE barren music of a word or phrase,

The futile arts of syllable and stress,

He sought. The poetry of common days

He did not guess.

The simplest, sweetest rhythms life affords-

Unselfish love, true effort truly done,

The tender themes that underlie all words-

He knew not one.

 The human cadence and the subtle chime

Of little laughters, home and child and wife,

He knew not. Artist merely in his rhyme,

Not in his life.

Image credit: www.allposters.com