PRIVATE CONVERSATIONS (My Conversation with a famous poet)

My Conversation with a famous poet
Was not in person, but in my head
Not surprising as he’s been long dead
Yet with all the thirsty souls he’s fed
Wherever he may now be, he’ll know it

It started when I read a verse he wrote
Then something really stirred in me
The words just branched out like a tree
Enveloping my eyes so I couldn’t see
Except a vision that had struck a note

The meter’s rhythm was compelling
Each stanza linked smoothly to the next
No sense of awkward or being vexed
It was all there, contained in the text
The source of his inspiration so telling

With hints of accusative and dative
His language rarely speaks of love
Of German origin, it’s quite enough
Words float free into the air above
Carried away and almost ablative

So stimulated on that special occasion
I’ve found my appreciation has grown
A distinctive style now widely known
Now I find my writing echoes his own
Both content to be of that persuasion