I have yet to write my greatest work br Pondering and postulating, in words diverse br Each poem ‘till then a mere rehearse br Toward the work of greatest verse br br Honing my skills, I whittle and whittle br Each word cutting precise emotion br Cunning and comfy the context at battle br Yet narrow minded in its devotion br br Confound and compound, lingual in texture br Twisting and turning, cerebral in gist br Latitudinal waving, shaking the structure br Laughing, crying, pounding fist br br A secret meaning unread is missed br For in the text a message exists br br And that! br br Is the greatest poem ever writtenbr br Marcus McKinleybr br