The writer

Of writing things
and shaping verse,
tell of kings
or tell of worse.
Tell us all
your sweet little tale
have not gall
nor bitter sway,
make your words
if you can
dance like swords
of  fighting men.

Shape the sound
and make it nice
let all around
hear your device,
put their minds
where you will
be not unkind
be not ill.
Tell of all
that you can see
make your tales tall
and imaginary,
make us clap
and our hearts beat
our fingers snap
we tap our feet.

Your goal in life
for all our eyes
to write strife
to write surprise,
the story told
of things askew
to write of old
to write of new,
to tell the tale
that should be told
it comes in gales
crimson, gold.
Then think it out
to plan it well
to tell of gout
or oceans swell,
the great whale
of ivory white
a famous tale;
if told just right.

A million others
gone before
of sisters, brothers
or final score.
You told of mystery
and of fame
then came history
then of shame,
all of this
from minds of man
gentle as a kiss,
imagine if you can
to tell these things
is the rarest gift,
given out to less than kings
saved never out of thrift;
shared is the only way
they ever reach fruition,
so learn what there is to say
and use your intuition
be it of rise
or be it of fall
stories in disguise,
hide within us all.