Verse Versus Verse

If I try to write something serious,

I end up scribbling junk;

Then try to make some meaning out of it,

And expect others to do the same.

But if I just write something senselessly,

And start down making skunk,

I have a piece of work that is liked by all;

And then they ask me its name.

The Name Is Poetry

This is a book, and this is a pen;

And this is the line where the words are lain.

This is a hand, and this is the brain;

And this is the cabin which controls the crane.

These are the eyes, and this is your sane;

And this is the focus which here they train.

This, God's will, and this, HIS sprinkled rain;

And this, protagonist- the big, fat, lazy hen!

The Apparatus Of Poetry

Oh, Time! Dear my! The Abominable!

The Force, the Fourth Dimension, the Giant, yet subtle.

It passes in seconds, it passes in hours,

As even the days pass by.

It devours away the whole of you,

And leaves you with the skull!

The good does never fade, but the evils dominate;

For the bad is easy to learn, and to let go, harder yet.

So the path you take is fiendish, and so then is your fate.

But you see how it is, wee mortal - you choose what you get.