©2003 Harvey H. Warwick III

Poetry just has to come from the heart; it can’t be mass-produced, made part-by-part.
(That’s such a difficult rhyme to avoid: what other word here could I have employed?
Surely not “start”, for that’s also cliche. I need some other word to use today.
Once through the alphabet, plus A-R-T should yield a couple more words, at least three.
“Art” is my starting word, no need to add any more letters to that, and I’m glad.
“Bart” is a man’s name, but no one I know has the name Bart and so I’ll let that go.
“Cart” would be different, but even so how it relates to the heart, I don’t know.
“Dart” paints a picture I readily see: dart to the heart like the sting of a bee.
I’ll have to skip over E, F, and G. “Hart” like a deer is like “heart” with no E.
Likewise I’ll skip over I, J, and K; heart in a go-kart? I think not today.
L wouldn’t make sense, but then there is M. Heart mart? I wish I could find one of them.
I’ll also skip over N, O, and P. “Part” takes us back where we started, you see.
Q with a U gives us “quart”, which is not a word that rhymes with heart. What’ve we got
Left to go over? There’s R, S, and T. “Smart” or “tart” are words I’d use possibly.
U, V, and W, X, Y, and Z; now through the alphabet, I’ve found my three.)
Poetry has to come straight from the heart just like a carefully aimed, well-thrown dart.
Poetry just has to come from the heart. It’s not a science, but rather an art.
Poetry just has to come from the heart, whether it’s bitter, sweet, salty, or tart.
Each of these endings avoided cliche: I try to write all my verses this way.