Verb – an eager, tail-wagging little word,
running wide-eyed between its bigger brothers;
words such as conjunctions, prepositions.
One of grammar’s doers, never content to lie
supine, always knowing that action
speaks louder than other words.

Pronouns are full of their own importance;
adjectives are pure decoration and nouns
are merely appellations. The sturdy verb,
though, moves mountains, spins the galaxies
in their endless courses and propels the heart
through the cannon-mouth of emotion.

The verb is the jewel in grammar’s crown –
far superior to the common noun.

Bill Fitzsimons, Dublin-born and a relative new-comer in poetry terms, wrote his first poems in his late fifties. He is a founder member of a Leeds-based Irish writers group, Lucht Focail (Word People) and reads at venues in Leeds and elsewhere. He has been published in Poetry Monthly and Aireings and in three anthologies – The Fifth Province, Triple Spiral and Views from the…