poet's dilemma

sonnet variation  

No weapon is more powerful than the human soul on fire.  Ferdinand Foch  
 
scarce have i proved to be the poets’ poet,  
although i stain my page with frantic ink.  
my every lyric trembles just to know it:  
that i have barely scratched the outer brink  
of medicine whose potent words recline  
beyond the mind, where dark clouds, silver lined,  
 
search for the colours of the artist’s arts  
to feed the pages of the hungry scroll.  
the muse of strings, the bard of ancient harps,  
must serenade the silent, bleeding soul;        
yet struggle i, with pen and tongue and language,  
to find appeasement for my readers’ anguish.  
 
if every word were framed by flagrant fire,  
perhaps i thus could every heart inspire.  
 
© Copyright 2019 July 21  
by Clyve A. Bowen♫