CONTRARY
CONTRARY
A poem personified, it could be me
Yet to embrace analysis, I am averse
Words should flow at their own pace
Precise syllable counts are a disgrace
And a volta can be an empty purse
So, it’s a simple structure, you see
Is a stanza really more than a verse
It always depends on the poetic form
It one appeals to me, then I’m on it
Whether Scupham verse or a sonnet
But free verse conjours up a storm
And mixed case words are a curse
Apologies to all the purists out there
I never wanted to be so constrained
Rhyme is Okay, especially masculine
As slant rhymes should go in the bin
It loses something when explained
But I’ll try and write better, I swear
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