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http://arteonline.arq.br/museu/library_pdf/david_inkey.htm
A perfect poet
Send not to know for whom these bells toll?
My soul is paying a toll… a fee to set me free…
I love and I am loved… I am a perfect poet…
I am a perfect poet, for I love and I am loved.
I am a perfect poet, because I’ve learned
Beyond the words and worlds of many others,
A perfect poet has just two tasks to meet perfection,
With ease, one of these twins is won, simply achieved,
Compared to the immeasurable challenging nature, stricture,
Stature, scripture, structure, complicity, complexity of the other…
First, with simple words works scrambled, blindly maligned
Aligned occasionally rhymed to her/his satisfaction,
Rich or poor, in sickness or in health, for better or worse,
Ignoring all curse, taking whatever is in store, finding the score,
A perfect poet translates from the prosaic mosaic,
Refutes, computes, disputes, dilutes, imputes, minutes
All the life of process, to a sharp, poetic pitch,
A high degree of poignancy, being significant,
Her/his bas-relief regales, towering over all other scales,
On bails of joy and grief….
Bound in a second round, without a second,
Minute, hour, day, week, month, year,
Decade, century, millennium to spare,
The rare second chore to score is,
To become integral, to be a poetic soul…
The feat depends not on fame, recognition,
threats of perdition, any sedition, petition,
Cognition, nor being seen as a celebrity…
The stasis may be a purely singular, peculiar
Secret to a perfect poet, alone…
Send not to know for whom these bells toll?
My soul is paying a toll… a fee to set me free …
david inkey, the UN poet, 41505
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