Poetry Storm
As I sit at the table,
I will ponder and then
search for the words
and a form for a poem
I'll be staring at paper,
with a pen in my hand
while looking for gold,
whether it's midnight or dawn
Just like hearing the tapping of rain on the window
A free-verse is brewing,
at first just a drizzle
And as quickly as storms,
seem to come out of nowhere,
a floodgate of verses
will sound as my thunder
and flash as my lightning
to strike here and there
Pouring on paper,
like rivulets on windows
A free-verse unleashed,
forms the words in a row
Painting a river, and a poem I can own
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10/30/15 For Contest: "What Is Your Favorite Poetry Form?"
Sponsor Nayda Ivette Negron
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