They may have called me a wordsmith
but I don't strike hot iron to forge prose.
Verse can be steel hard in creation,
but can also be as delicate as a rose.
No clanging forge creates my mess,
no hot fire or anvil hard for my words.
Instead it is more like making a quilt,
sewing the ideas as flighty as birds.
Adjectives embroider my art
Word choice stands substitute for fabric shapes
Meter dances in and out like thread
quilting and binding poetic landscapes.
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