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Personal Note:

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Poem

Formal forms feel nice and safe
But meter makes me sweat
Sometimes rhymes will grind and chafe
And stresses makes me fret

Perhaps there is another way?
I need to be diverse
Panzer stanzas made of clay?
Or flirt with loose free verse

...

To write without rules? Freedom!
The shackles of rhyme snap open
And clatter to the floor
The ball and chain of meter and rhythm
Slip off and roll away
Through the septic puddle of conformity
Clunks against the cell wall
The solid steel door unbolts - one - two - three
And squeals open
Rust flakes bursting then falling
Metallic leaves onto a metallic forest floor
A breeze washes in - washes away the stale air
A poster of Dr Seuss lifts, then flaps, then rips
Then blows away
Daylight streams in - bright - white - blinding - searing
As fragile eyes adjust, the outside free-i-verse reveals itself
Freedom? Yes. But what chaos!
Repetition, imagery, metaphors and repetition - still there
And rhyme and meter!
Where should they go?
What if I get it wrong?
How will I know?
I can't take it in!

...

The door swings and closes - safe and secure
The chill draft now whispers - certain and sure
The shackles await me - to hold and embrace
The ball and chain staring - a well meaning face

Perhaps structure and form aren't really so bad
Free verse is trendy, or maybe a fad
From now on I'll stick to what I surely know
Rhythm and meter and rhyme true to flow

Or maybe I'll try again tomorrow...



(Entry for the "flirt" contest)

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