STEPHEN BAUHART is a Canadian poet who has started trying to capture the world in rhyme again after a twelve-year writer’s block, scribbling in his notebook when he’s not being bounced around by his daughters.  To keep up with his poetic undertakings check out his published collection, Holy Jokes & Twisted Rings, or hear his readings of classic and original poetry on Steve’s Gravel Pit Poetry on YouTube.

For the Love of Poesy

Lusty scholars love a poem’s body,
Romanced by sultry marks above her i’s,
Voice, mood, feet, academics fetishize
Poesy.  Though her drapery’s oft gaudy
Love borne on simile seldom’s shoddy.
Cloying cursive curves will catch on wandering eyes
Of innocents, wooed by words, who realize
That anapests and iambs can be naughty.

Later, they’ll retire to the sweet embrace
Of memory, without a paper trace
And every curve and sinew of the word
Through sensuous recital will be heard
And everything that passion ever meant
Through Poesy’s love is known, and felt, and spent.

World Grows Cold

What would you do if the world went cold tomorrow?

The ending came when you weren’t done your story?

You turned a page where all there was was sorrow,

And all you’d hoped to earn, or steal, or borrow,

Was not enough, the final word was “sorry”?

The page will turn, but do you do the turning?

Can hands that tremble twist the spokes of time?

And if the fates, they tell a tale of yearning,

Have you the strength to fix the final line

And change the tale to fit your own design?

Stroke the pen, and write frost off the pages,
And if the world, it doesn’t change, write on.
Paper burns to pens in writers’ rages
And if ashes are your mark upon the ages,
At least the world is warm until you’re gone.