But who will free the poetry
But who will free the poetry
Of its endless binding history
In doing so free you and me
To write as if we’re truly free
Of meters lockstep droning march
Of lifeless linen, too much starch
Tongues twisted by alliteration
Trains of words leaving the station
But who will free the poetry
Still locked within the who of me
Until I shout – “just let it be”
For poetry’s always been free
Its forms a method to a means
Ekphrasis words creating scenes
Of city streets in tattered jeans
Fairy tales of rescued Queens
So, fill the page with loving’s rage
A gentle breeze on windblown sage
Release the Kraken of the mind
Rescue the poet left behind
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