A poem for a poem’s sake,
Does not a poem ever make.
Such a poem cannot exist;
Cannot endure much more than mist.

When the poet creates his words
A nation wields them as a sword.
Without the mind and heart and soul
Words have no power to console.

Dangle the words upon a string,
Write lyrics that will make you sing,
Paint a picture of anything,
But without meaning, you have nothing.

A poem: a knowledge of life,
Or the poet’s anguish and strife.
A portrait: a view of the world,
Or the painter’s gift, precious pearls.

Beauty not for beauty’s sake,
Beauty shows what humans make.
Such useless art cannot exist;
When humans see art, they force a twist.