Open Shirt

A poem in free verse mocking rhymed, metrical verse

Poetry, like water, should be left

to find and follow its own course

sparkling in sunlight as it dances

over the rubble

of rhyme’s breached dams and

metre’s crumbling conduits

whose curbing confines

fetter a free form that seeks to rush, race,

run, rest or wander where it will;

poetry, released, flows unimpeded:

words leap waterfalls,

slide beneath green willows, slip between

bright water lilies, lifting souls and flooding them with light until…

A rhyming couplet rears its ugly head

And kills what should be flowing free stone dead.