I wonder what I write 
Would ever get counted as poetry
At times, I do feel the need
Of learning the art
Mastering the so called
Trick of the trade
Alas, I so much loath 
The mediocrity of method
What separates skill from art?
So many can replicate Picasso
Can recreate Mozart
But for the genius of creation
The joy of naive, unbridled passion
What success, what audience can create that?