Ant Smith


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