STANDARDS

Ease the pain, comfort the eye,
Pleads the brain, of working shy, 
Know your worth, but wrap it in, 
Standards high are not their thing.

Yes, be a scholar beyond your age,
Delve deeper than what prints on page,
Yet, when your quill should dip in ink,
Easy is what makes the mint.

A wall thick with mortar so morose,
passion wilts, withered by force,
A thankless task, give it a stab though, vermin,
Else the wizard will not grant you a heart of tin.

CONVERSATION

Voices drifting, floating, melding
Some incompatible, others a honeycomb
It rises and throbs like a creature unkempt
demanding, unruly, yet in desire bent..

Eyebrows, twitches, slight curls about the lips,
A glance askance, a protesting pitch, 
Do I intrude, or hover at the seams
A weaver watching the fabric knit its own reams.

They invite yet taunt, rekindle memories that haunt,
'Tis a dance of personas silhouetted against the fire of thought
A step off beat and it whispers a plea,
Please..please...keep conversing with me.