Ant Smith
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The Maven

Why not write a daily poem-a-day?
Suddenly words are so throw away.
Carve out space where you can sit and wait
For a clue to what you want to say

The spirit of this thing's so profound
Ideas are won more than they're found
Infernos rage from the slightest spark
The poet's abyss is never far.

When words move in abstract sullen moods
They likely proselytise for to you
Why not write a daily poem-a-day?
Perhaps because I ain't so vain

You must be some kind of great maven
To promise daily poetic ravings