free verse

THE COST OF VERSE

 

poems sometimes rhyme

but not all the time

some are free verse—

don't cost a thing

except blood, sweat and tears

of the poet who bears

her soul and works like hell

to find the rite word

(without being clichéish)

in order

to evoke music

on the page—

to play the cello

with a pen

so that Dear Reader

might hear meter

as lyrical miracle...

changes language into wine—

gladdening the heart

with fermented Art

from patient Time

sans Rhyme—

free verse is never free

something must be crushed

inspiration not rushed

sun rains rays

moist clouds break dry days

luscious sounds picked by hand

bottled, labeled, unique brand

of poe tree juice

ready to be uncorked

and drunk

with sound mind