Poetry by Clint Henderson

I gave as pure as I could
with the freshest force I understood
Things of subtlest design
sudden surprising did we find
A woe alone the prophet’s divine
as does the poet long suffering for rhyme
All the beauties are made fresh, but
for a time
Oh, how the power of the Muse
being certain becomes so quickly confused
As innocent’s necessitate distinctions from their false truths
Did you come to deliver me
How easily we plumbed the depths
as infants suckle then gasp in breaths
The easy made difficult in symmetrical tests
A purer purity that before you could not be known
A vision power cast is still yet vulnerable prone
I looked everywhere for a trace of what had been
but it proved to be a fast hope with it’s punishing quick end
All the things in your voice I longed for didn’t hear
and what of the…