Yoda The Poet? Poem by Denis Martindale

And why should Yoda try to write,
Of all my kind yet known
And puzzle, yes, by day, by night,
All by myself, alone?
Are there not poets yet enough,
Their books sold by the score?
So, why, then, share my thoughts on love,
My feelings to outpour?

Who would kiss Yoda? Hmm, I ask...
Who would caress his ears?
Yet are such things too hard a task,
So full of morbid fears?
No female Yoda have I seen!
Our kind almost extinct...
I cannot write what has not been,
Such lies will not be inked...

It's Yoda, here, a truthful soul
And lonely, too, at home,
But think of all that self-control,
With no more need to roam...
But Yoda knows what Yoda knows,
Yes, Yoda's not a fool,
Not taken in by fragrant rose,
Or once in love to drool...

Yes, Yoda's pleased with Yoda now,
Content, tranquil and calm,
Serene inside, no frown on brow,
No lady on his arm...
Just lonely sometimes, now and then,
Admit it, yes, I do,
But rather would I count to ten
Than blurt out, I love you!

So Yoda needs no poetry,
No pretty prose to share,
To entertain humanity,
All feelings thus laid bare...
So you write poems in my stead!
Sell poems if you can!
I think that if I stay in bed
Sounds like a perfect plan!