A Modern Wordsmith’s Dilemma


The wonder of our words has died –  
     So many are taboo. 
My tongue and pen are now denied 
     The truth and beauty too. 
My heart is swelling with a song 
But twisted lyrics don’t belong 
     In all that’s fair and true.
 Rhyme and rhythm have no soul  
When iron fists are in control.

The music in my veins runs cold.
     It’s sluggish and offbeat.
The notes are grim, not one is gold.
     My tune is incomplete.
No sonnet soars to lilting spheres
When honest words offend the ears
     Of those who overheat
At stanzas blazing with desire
Illumed with language kissed by fire.

My Muse contorts my misted mind    
     Where hazy visions dwell.  
Today her words are ill-defined –   
     The best have bid farewell.    
“It’s Venus!” I’ve just heard her shout.   
I burn to let this goddess out  
     To cast her odic spell!  
Alack, the women most revered  
Are those who have a cock and beard. 
When will it end, where will it go –
     This lexis-hexing craze,
This pick-a-pronoun-hoedown show,
     This crazy-making phase?
With happenstance, I yearn to dance,
Free tethered tongues and take a stance
     Beyond these wacky ways
Of banished bards and pregnant men
Where truth and beauty bless my pen.

Susan J. Bryant

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Susan J. Bryant would be pleased to hear them.