Two Birds With One Stone

Sometimes I wonder what will be best If I decide to write a poem for a Souper's contest. Everyone wants theirs a certain way Nixing any ideas I may have had in play. Trying to create a written piece is difficult Yet, some seem to want not words...but the occult. Different people have talents beautiful and rare But to read the rules, sometimes I just stare...and stare...and stare. Write it in this form or be sure to follow this measure No, we won't consider your hidden treasure. At least not if it's not written to our specs Sometimes reading the rules just makes my brain go convex. I enjoy writing...sometimes only in a certain way The rules enjoined on others oft puts me off that day. Because it's not form or rhyme or scheme that matters to me It is the words describing the writer's moment that I want to see. I want to know from a place so remote The feelings and inferences they now emote. What are their words and what do they mean? Do their words speak to me, or am I obscene? Yes I, like poets everywhere Enjoy the challenges of "Putting it out there". But, count your syllables, count your lines... Then be sure that you have the correct scheme of rhyme? For some it is easy to transition one to another Yet, my mind says to me..."Oh, Brother!" So, that is why I can't write for every contest I would like Because my brain would have a writer's strike. Remember too, I am speaking for me I can only know what my own writings can be. Some of you will think that because of this I'm an ASS... Well, you may be right, but for now, I'll just pass.