Focus

I created the form of this poem (including rhyme) to suit the subject matter -- the lines start long and focus in.

A person hoping to, without a fight,

      find focus need look only in

          a microscope. Therein

             you’ll surely note

                 things finite.

 

The lens so neatly, gently, clearly rends

      detail of objects: gems or blood

               or anything so good

                   allowing light

                       to bend.

 

When first the object sits upon the sheet

       of glass, the image fuzzly slides

             through focus on its ride,

                      clearing until

                         complete.

 

Although there’s no science in my degree,

        I refuse to mope ‘bout tropes �"

            just look in microscopes

                       at poetry

                        with me.

 

The truth, I tell to literary friends,

    resides in trends of criticism:

             analysis and vision

           through critic’s voices

                      extend.

 

A critic’s voice suspends the diction, lends

     its own to change, review, and slopes

           the poem to readers’ scopes

                    to parse details

                        with pens.

 

So, if I may propose (I think I dare),

          poetic criticism shares

        with science certain cares:

            they’re both beyond

                    compare!

Reviews

[Nwanna Onyeka Benedict]

This is a nice poem. With a lot of meanin.