This is engineered (yes, engineered) with Aley’s review on the following work in mind:
A Lack of Sadness on a Happy Day
=====================================
What muse had inspired this,
has left me.
I cannot touch it;
sacrosanct, it stands as memory
in the high, imagined annals
of my mind.
Which creature hence adore it
lay praise upon the moment
for I, the author,
cannot
take
credit.
I wrote it—
ah, but
it wrote
itself
using
such weak proxy
as
has lost it
from his ability.
This
free-verse
is bound
to the…
the rhymes
in my head.
They carry
my
thought.
And I
am empty
without.
Gray,
sand;
bridges,
bands;
efforts land
me
out
of
hand.
How can I
simply not rhyme?
What foolhardy craft
should lack proper time.
I do not understand
what pain this end
does means employ;
quite cruel
its salvo
against this
wretched boy.
What stupid murder
against
my poetic nature—!
Ecology
break me —
corrosive
down —
explosive
into this —
toxic
new form; produces —
excuses
lines of music;
I sing not a word
I, unstirred-
Ah! This is madness, that
anyone in this world
insists on the bland-
ness
of poetry, rhyme-
less...
Prejudice, damn this!
But how can they
follow the words
I am bothered
to play for them
here on this page
to consider this
means to the passion
I lose in the writing
as it flows without…
without… rhyming
Still, I’d be
damn’d
to admit it
or to require
my old works
to fit it
so no; I
will not budge,
nor return blow
to kindliness
for perhaps
with its unique remit
this form will
find me use…
just not yet.
Points: 1722
Reviews: 13
Donate