by Troy Camplin27 May 2017
The weakest like to exercise their power --
Abusers all lash out from lack of power.
The artist makes the world anew, makes life
Worth its experience -- that is his power.
Amoebas stretch their pseudopods to move
And eat -- a feat of their own will to power.
Beloved, I will always love you -- feel
My love in touch and kindness, love's true power.
Behold the rose's slow-unfolding flower --
Become entranced by its strong fragrant power.
Your brain is rhythmed by this poem's rhythm
And rhyme -- such patterns are a poem's power.
My readers get my best in lines like these --
It's here where I, Troy Camplin, find my power.