Anyone Can Be a Poet

While anyone can be a poet,
most of us will never know it.
School has taught us, with a meanness,
we can’t have that sort of genius.

But every child can make some art,
for all are born with mind and heart.
They start creative, knowing naught
of possible or must or ought.

This is why I ask young children
whether they've yet used God given
talents to make their first poem.
At that age, the spark's still growing.

What's it take to be a poet?
Your vocabulary: Grow it!
You need to know the just right word.
With any else, the sense is blurred.

Read anything that can be read:
Solidify your word wiz cred.
Focus on creative fiction.
Free yourself of thought restriction.

Read a lot of other poets.
Learn all the precepts, although it's
also vital to know just why
and when and how they don't apply.

Above all, nourish confidence.
Have some faith in your immense
capacity to love and feel
what, to others, is true and real.

Sit down and write, and when you're done,
revise and edit, have some fun.
Just beware of this issue:
Perhaps no one will publish you!

But you bear God's image proper,
so you have His imprimatur
to create, like Him, whenever
you like. Enjoy the endeavor.

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

A.M. News

Good Morning, Heaven! I am Gabriel and this is the Heavenly News Network.

First, the news of God:

He is still on His Throne!

Christ is still resurrected.

The Holy Spirit still works in the life of every created being.

In news of the universe:

Remember that supernova in WR-104, about seven thousand years ago,

the one that the Angelic Corps of Engineers adjusted

by just one hundredth of a degree of arc?

We can now report that, exactly as planned,

the axial gamma ray burst will certainly miss

that tiny planet that God is so involved in.

Speaking of that planet, here's the terrestrial news:

Various rulers made unfounded decisions, most of them bad.

Of greater interest:

Little Cindy Phipps and Joanie Simpson are friends again.

Carlos Ortiz overcame his fear of heights

and rescued Pilar Soto’s cat from a tree.

And 143,329 souls moved from Earth to Heaven.

Now the forecast: It’s going to be a glorious day.

Yes, there will be tempests, tumults, and pestilence, but ignore the small stuff.

This day will be glorious!

Yes, for you too. Yes, I can see you.

What do you think this is, TV?

No, this is Poetry, and I am Gabriel.

I see you there planning to have a lousy day.

You’re free to do that, but you’ll be making the rest of us sad.

Cheer up and smell the Glory!

And now a word from our sponsor:

Love!

Yes, that’s the word and that’s the sponsor.

All of us here at HNN hope you will use our sponsor’s products throughout the day.

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

No Longer Only in Dreams

No one knows how, perhaps through neglect,

young Jeremy Joshua Bligh

somehow arrived with a birth defect:

He failed to forget how to fly.

Before we are born, we all know how.

We soar among angels, with flair.

Yet just as we take our first breath (until now),

we forget how to take to the air.

But young JJ Bligh forgot to forget,

and nothing was ever the same.

Mom had to use a butterfly net,

whenever his diaper change came.

As a small toddler, he never appeared

in a dancing babe video frame.

Dad ran the camera, but he interfered

by jetting up out of Dad’s aim.

He went off to school like most of the boys,

but the teacher despaired of the squealing,

out of control, wild classroom noise,

when JJ’s desk rose to the ceiling.

He tried to go out for sports, of course,

but his every attempt was confounded.

The whole coaching staff could not fairly enforce

the rules, with our JJ ungrounded.

The day finally came, as all knew it must,

when JJ just had to conform.

He found, all in all, that he’d rather adjust,

than get lost in a bad thunderstorm.

Still, next time you have that remarkable dream

of soaring up into the air,

do try really hard to remember the scheme.

Think what you could save on airfare!

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.