Ambiguity.

 Ambiguity


Ambiguity, his middle name

Just a poet all the same

Unwilling still to draw a line

Happy to be undefined. 


The meaning is not his but yours

Whatever words suggest

You can never pin him down 

As he moves from town to town. 


He’s not ashamed to change his tone

His poems vary down the years

On he saunters forward only

Leaving lovers in the margins. 


This is what high Art demands

Focus firmly on the prize

Sacrifice all abandon sundry

For he is too a slave to history. 


His words provoke but also soothe

The jaded spirit, the hungry soul

Light sometimes he knows not how

The hidden sparks in grey existence. 


Lay him down beneath the headstone

Silent witness for all future ages

If they succeed the widespread dangers

Finding strength to carry on. 

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