Half way through the month of poems. I have learned a lot and realize that I can actually write more than a poem every six months, which was my pattern the past few years. Before that I had sworn off writing poetry for about thirty years because I thought that I should be reading other people’s poetry instead of writing mediocre stuff. But as I said in a recent poem, the words kept nipping at my ankles and begging to be smeared on paper so…….
Never rhyme a poem, why would I?
bind the wings of verse meant to be
free-er than the wind seems to me,
and leave the poem to lie
All tied up with tape and gaggle
unable to move or haggle
discontented to straggle
away from its boundless sky