In the Soup

A month ago I fell into a kettle of soup that was hot. Many chefs to stir the broth, and I've met quite a lot. I grew curious about what made the soup so unique So I thought I'd get busy reading poems to take a peek. I'm used to my native gumbo, which has a thicker base, but this soup is simmered with ingredients from every place. I've sampled and I've tasted and I'm loving all the flavor Of so many wonderful writings that I'm learning to savor. I'm impressed with the meat some good cooks throw in here. There are a few who'd like to add too much spice, I fear. Sometimes a little pinch of salt is tossed in for good measure, and it's beginning to have an aroma that gives me pleasure. It's said that too many cooks will often spoil the broth But I've not seen the evidence of a mouth oozing froth. I have witnessed those who one might consider flakes. Come on, where's your sense of humor...for goodness sakes! I discovered forms of poetry, the likes of which I'd never seen, Cinquain, tanka, and those that fit somewhere in between. I'd like to try my hand at them before going to my grave. It would mean leaving my rhyming zone, to which I'm enslaved. Maybe I should just make up a new form all on my own. I need to take a Zen moment, for my wits I'll need to hone. In addition to its name I'll need to determine how it goes. To rhyme or not to rhyme. Will it be free verse or maybe prose? I'm open to all suggestions from anyone within the loop. Let's find a new form of poetry to sweeten our Poetry Soup. No suggestion would I ever consider too outrageous or too silly. So lay them on me, Soupers. Do you think I'm serious? Really?