Wordsmith

© 12/3/2001 Dennis L. PickeringWhat is it that a Word-Smith do?He only works with words for youIt is alleged that he can raiseConstructions worthy of your praiseConstructions being but poemsThat you can place around your homesTo refresh your consciousness domesUpon remembering his tomesThe tomes that he’ll construct for youAlways have rhyme and rhythm tooThey’ll tend not to make you feel blueAnd can often transform your hueHe has constructed for all kindsAnd for all that employ their mindsFor advancing on their pathwaysAlthough he may encounter fraysFrays just within your consciousnessThat you are un-disposed to bless’Cause you think they’re just one big messSince they do reside in your dressThe comely dress of which I speakIs ideas that you can tweakAnd forestall all from being meekEach and every day of the weekThis good-looking dress you do wearIs just thoughts you keep in your hairThis hair only does representThoughts and ideas your brain’s spentSpending ideas by your brainHelps it to remain on the trainAnd on the track beside the grainSprouting the seed that’s on the paneThe pane you happen to look throughAnd see the reflection that’s grewMuch bigger than you thought it couldIt’s not made of unbending woodThis growth is caused by consciousnessEver expanding with finesseNot often, but it can depressWhen you do live within duressFinis Written December 3rd, 2001 © on Dec 03 2001 11:57 AM PST, Dennis Pickering   17 • 0 • 10