Don't be too harsh to these poems until they're typed. I always think typescript lends some sort of certainty: at least, if the things are bad then, they appear to be bad with conviction. ~Dylan Thomas, letter to Vernon Watkins, March 1938
Bear with me today.
And here's a non bad poem. A really good poem in fact:
Lord, how can man preach thy eternal word? He is a brittle, crazy glass, Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford This glorious and transcendent place,
To be a window through thy grace.
But when thou dost anneal in glass thy story. Making thy life to shine within The holy preachers, then the light and glory More reverend grows, and more doth win, Which else shows wat'rish, bleak, and thin.
Doctrine and life, colors and light, in one When they combine and mingle, bring A strong regard and awe; but speech alone Doth vanish like a flaring thing, And in the ear, not conscience, ring.