To Milton's Satan

To Milton's Satan
By Andrew Moravick

In sin you ate and with death you dined
Bred in you hate and with malice of mind,
You exploded with actions and words of woe,
Destroying yourself instead of your foe,
And that foe whom you fought be truly a friend,
Though all that you sought truly led to your end,
So then seek you out by some secondary style,
A means and a manner to your opponent defile,
Cowering corrupt a conniving plan you prescribed,
From the spirits of revenge on which you imbibed,
Drunk in delight of dark deed to be done,
Rapidly to righteous retaliation you run,
On blackened wings to air you take to make haste,
TO your victims souls you go to damn and lay waste,
For they are the one weakness for you to make gains
Gainst your foe by bestowing on them the pains
Felt by you when in your pride you boldly blasphemed
And so set you upon them, a terror too great to be dreamed
By the innocent victims of your voracious villainy,
Outcast and cursed by your cruel craft, continually
Carrying on characterized by your terrible temptation,
Passing to posterity the lashes of your lethal lamentation
And so now in sin we hate and on us Death dines
While woefully we wait for salvations sweet signs,
Which will tell of a time when free from you we will be,
And no glimmer of further gain may your monstrous eye see.

Forget Not Rhyme

Forget Not Rhyme
By Andrew Moravick

Poetry with no rhyme is like sex with no climax,
Yes it can be done but on your mind it will tax.
Rhyme they say is cheap, fickle, and out dated,
Why though are those poems today contemplated,
While modern terns of verse are just dozens for a dime,
And yet long lasting is literature with that ridiculous rhyme?
Modernism it’s called, poetry progressed past those previously penned,
Yet why not with Donne, Blake, or Byron can modernists contend?
The mind needs challenges, toils, tribulations, and tests,
Without these within the mind mediocrity manifests.
Rhyme with reason paired requires more thought in each line,
Through various vines of vocabulary a poet must pine.
Searching for words of worth, weight, and wonderful sound,
Pleasing the pen wielding poet when words are finally found.
Rhythm valued vastly above rhyme what a reckless reform.
Like wearing shirt without pants while wanting to keep warm.
Yes some unrhymed writings are beautiful and deep,
But can not rhymed wonders we also wish to keep?
Are we so vain to say we are absolutely above,
The poems of old all ages have shared in love?
Why not continue the old with the new?
Why value one way when both are true?
Why abandon rhyme in poetry without second thought,
When rhymes were the first part of poetry we were taught?