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With William Blake on my mind

I’ve sat with his poems this night enamored

And adapted in my speech his rhythm and rhyme

Unconsciously sculpted by the poet’s hammer

 

My breath devoured, imitative yet new

A reborn voice strums vocal cadence

Blake my father, lost and dear

Returns to me in words a’ laden

 

Whose pen it wrote for these eyes to hear

Whose songs through time they reach to me

And I a part of this heavenly sphere

Am made to see what thou did see

 

Of grass and sky and joy a’ plenty

Rolling hills, the savage song

The noblemen, the speechless gentry

All dance and laugh and sing along

 

Of the coarser sights, the tiger stalking

And child lost in grove or storm

While fathers balk their incessant talking

Upon catching sight of their disheveled form

 

Memories mold as words unravel

Thoughts conveyed from inside my mind

From life long faded, mine own life stated

Revealing a past to which I was blind

 

The father’s vision hath long entranced

And spread the poets immortal seed

And even if only slightly enhanced

When watered makes for a delightful breed