Poetry Revised: What's the Crime In Rhyme?
Preface:
Some people absolutely
Insist
That life is a
Free verse piece...
They sneer at the mere suggestion
That rhyme and meter
Play any kind of role
in the genre.
It flows, they say,
Not from point a to point b,
but rather meanders,
As a stream unchecked,
Propelled by nothing
Save motion,
To a point short of
Immortality
and a purpose deemed
Whatever.
Proposition:
Not I.
Despite dersion
And sneers
At the discipline
Of the device,
I prefer to believe-
I desperately cling to the hope that
Life is a series of stanzas,
A work in which I count the measured feet
And move in tandem with the proscribed beat
So ultimately patterns will- voila- appear
To dissipate the jagged lines of fear
And give direction to what seems to be
The paradox I've come to know as me.
Poetic Exhibit #1: Rhyme...Time
Wonder
Where the time
Went?
Spent
The decades in
Repose?
Suppose
You'd kept a close
Account:
Amount
Of minutes spent on things
Not
Consequential,
Essential,
Or
Enlightening.
Frightening,
Isn't it?
Time to set alarms,
Perhaps?
Lapse
Back to years
Ago?
No.
You were younger
Then,
When
Time was
Cheap.
Leap
Forward
Toward
A fuller
Life
Rife
With promise,
Minus
Strangulaton.
Elation!
Poetic Exhibit #2: Dream...Beam
Living in a world
Of dreams
Seems
to be nonproductive...
For, though you've spun that web
Yourself,
The
Shelf
You're sitting on
Can be a lonely place,
Space enough for your dreams
Only,
Lonely,
Any way you
Perceive it.
Believe it
Or
Before
You know it,
You'll be flailing,
Wailing
Through an endless
Nightmare,
Where
No one wants to
Be.
See:
A bright pink
Place,
Where the only pretty
Face
Belongs
To you.
True.
But if you want to make a dream
Reality,
Be
Focused
On the path you need to
Take
To make
A vision
Come alive.
Strive
To keep your eye on
The prize.
(Wise men
Recognize
It's
Outside.)
A dream without a destination?
Creation
Denied.
Craft the dream...
Make it
Real.
Feel
The joy of
Watching it
come true.
WHO KNEW?!
