Once I read a poem

So boring and old.

It consisted of rhymes 

And a lesson untold.

I analyzed the poem,

scrutinizing it with my eyes.

Yet the true meaning remained hidden,

never to abide.

I was to write my own poem.

Yes! My own.

My own poem would rhyme, 

a story would be told.

A lesson would be told,

to the young and the old.

Poems are great,

make no mistake.

But the best poems,

are the ones you make.

Now I remember the poem,

So boring and old.

I analyzed the poem,

scrutinizing it with my eyes.

The true meaning was revealed,

no longer anyplace to hide.

I learned many things, 

when the story was told.

In the end I remember,

it helped me to write my own.

Because of a poem,

a poem I didn't understand.

I learned to write my own,

and finally I understand.

A poem taught me to write my own,

and now I could be shown,

what a poem could mean.

It could mean many things, 

to people like you and me.

 

 

 

 

**Image is copyright by Lina Basile**

INFO ABOUT PAINTING: This painting, called Father Time, was painted by Lina Basile which was uploaded on November 17th, 2009.