Calligraphy pen tip


A poet deals in words – 
their rhythms, sounds, and curves
delight him to no end.
He cherishes their meaning,
strings them out one by one,
then rearranges them –
his work is never done.

For he always thinks of one
who said it better than him – 
a turn of phrase or metaphor
more delicately spun.
He reads to fill his days,
the masters’ genius he imbibes.

But does he copy them?
Oh no, not ever.
He wouldn’t dream of it.
Though one might argue that
by imitation, he survives.

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