The Beauty of Poetry

In all its wondrous forms

Looking at the southern flank of ‘Īao Valley, by the author

A tag came to me of a new poem form
Dizain it is called, ordered in beauty
Ten and ten with odd rhyming at the norm
So to find true soul comes with the duty
Even if the point seems sort of moot-y
The appeal of the look takes center stage
It must be able to leap off the page
The ten lines to look as good as they sound
A forest of whispers, fountains of rage
Inner being revealed, your mind unbound