Path To The Promised Land Poem by Bill Cantrell

Greatness in poetry?
Do not look for protocols,
As sacred by any means
Etiquette is established by whom,
A status quo forged from a point of reference?
A point of reference,
Is nothing other than a point of reference,
Not reverence
True, greatness is to be found,
In many poets of old,
Yet, they themselves,
Would be in ecstasy,
To behold many poems of this age
I for my part am nothing,
Yet I am well aware of it and gladly acknowledge it
You poets of today,
Reach for the stars, for they are meant for you
Make your mark and be proud,
As the road to poetry is by no means,
Meant for a chosen few,
Whose pens rest In peace
Poetry is both for the living,
And the dead
And if we be so fortunate,
We just might,
Have an inscription,
That goes beyond our tombstone,
Into a most sacred place as well,
That being poetry's promised land,
Yes, the land flowing with milk and honey,
Is by no means found on earth,
It's vine and fig trees,
takes root both in the hearts of women and men,
And it produces fruitage for others to partake of in return