Sonnet-My Poetry

Alone, I stir a cauldron of a brew,
The brew of Poesy, voluminous;
The aroma is great; so is the hue;
And formula-Inspiration, toil plus.

The consistency improves with more time;
The quantity has swollen to the brim;
The quality has been my concern prime.
The taste is set to my fancy and whim.

My magic- potion is more than ready;
And it will stay unspoilt over ages;
I feel not weary but happy, steady,
For time will pay me laurels as wages.

My job tho' more than half-done continues,
I'll get my limelight soon and hit the news.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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