Today we are inspired by writing from ancient times.
Worship, worship, you heathens, bend knees and pray,
The god that rules his altar's offering demands
Your blood, the soul, your word in poetic form,
Fail him not, writer.
Your words, the lines, the poem governs all, and
Still you try to call the pace knowing not how
Feeble your attempt to take control will be,
You will fail, writer.
The strictest rules, iron bars a law you may
Not break, however much your poem wishes
To be free from the constraints of formal verse,
It will fail, writer.
Perhaps the rules from older times are no more
Appropriate for the day that now we write,
Perhaps free verse stretches better round our thoughts,
And does not fail, writer.
© 2ndwitch, 11/04/15
No comments:
Post a Comment