In the Conceit of a Poem

By its shapes,
how it smells,

and by looking
to tell

all the whats,
wheres and whens

to the senses,

a poet survives
by bringing alive

all those thats,
theres and thens

to the pensées.

And all, by deceit!

Word-verbiage feat!

Ah well.
What the hell.

What’s the metaphor for,
but conceit.

And you thought it,


only so sweet.

©2015, Marvin Welborn
21 June 2015. Revised 30 July 2015

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.