A Wordsmith reverently opens his paint box of words;
Expertly organized: color, texture, taste, sound, and sight;
To interlace appropriate names given motion by verbs;
Carefully align; hammer into shape; shine a favorable light;
On a treasured nugget of truth, a thought in safety girds,
The framework of culture; the very heart of nation’s might;
Wordsmiths find joy and purpose in high use of words.
A Wordsmith carelessly digs in search of a prurient word,
In disheveled box, looking for the right red and darkest black;
To scandalize, incite lust, create excitement, and be heard;
Red raw meat to draw them, in hopes of green bills in a stack!
Carefully places words in artful but base advertising blurb;
Hide death at the core; no care for society going off the track;
Purpose undermined by greed, joy is lost in truth deferred.