The Forum

Each came to the Forum, exposed his views,

And heated grew, and then eased off.

None shook the Greeks down from their pedestals,

Each tinctured the spirit of our time.

Religion was cursed, bu stood its inner ground,

Rhyme was trounced, but boomeranged about.

Form was tried and found a repentant wanton,

Art queried, but strengthened its devotees.

The eyeball in its smithy socket can

Make up the whole mind of man.

While that intricate, reflective gem,

The poem, gives love back to men.

In dissonances, quicknesses, in gleams

Each poet catches a flying spirit

And he would from his blood's frantic force

New light, dazzling, see and fit.

RıcHARD EBERHART