From the very depths of myself  I cherish  poetry,
without the written verse I’d  be impoverished as a human being,
literary projects spur me on to otherworldy epic peaks,
an open channel with furtherance from dictionary endowed,
golden opportunity for human pathos rich and fair,
stomach-wrenching angst, joyous peals of  laughter, mental stimulus,
visions I adhere to have a wider world impetus,
the comity of fellow authors and their honest appraisal,
diplomatic goodwill hint at barren lapse within my submissions,
and gracious honey Bon Mot of peer group kudos on occasions,
that  angst-ridden moment before a contest sponsor judgement,
bold gasp of relief at higher placement than expected,
or just as likely glum visage at the baleful NA,
in support a staunch muse Jay A Pallen shed her light,
loyal and demonstrative sister, whose sparkling eyes ooze warmth,
sagacious councillor supreme, bestowing love on this bard and their serious stanza,
who brought to my attention bewitching vistas waiting to be captured,
influencer of my first ever piece  “Downward Plod,”
shortlisted for Creative Writing Ink poet challenge,
where this writer’s magic life-enhancing odyssey started