Why Write
Blackened ardor has come and gone,
Dark nights pass, memory pauses,
Snug subjects, no longer forlorn,
Line in rows, effects with causes.
Half-baked mystery to dispatch,
Reviled libretto to rescue,
Singing lyrics ripe for the snatch,
Casting tricky topics anew.
Write for myself, not for others,
Risk dialogue of the spirit,
Find in myself other brothers,
That my inner judge might acquit.
Publish, not for pride, but closure,
Fill the shelf for daughter's whimsy,
Permit time’s photo true exposure
Let others mark what they might see.
Rhyme
Rhyme, not merely development,
Is answer to a question.
A claim forced, and then once made,
Gives worthy end, a cession.
Answers ask another query,
The end that start engenders.
The options spiral, one calls out,
The choice from all contenders.
The fated chosen draws out selection.
By awarding the convincing prize.
Each rhyming option shrouds the piece,
Masks the Ball full with disguise.
Rhyme waltzes at balls of words,
Duets in variation,
Each set is suitable for dancing,
Matching a new temptation.
Rhythm
Rhythm is but an anchoring,
It retains the walls that bid us sing.
The metronome by holding firm the beat
Keeps romping thought blithely neat.
Supplies illusion of control,
Pilots course around each shoal,
Keeps our score within the lines,
Protects us from our manic minds.
Pens in the word from its delusion,
Saves us from numberless diffusion,
Scans the horizon for certitude,
Requires each line be firmly shoed.
Rhythm dances with boundaries,
Judges each phrase, referees.
A custodian of constant constraint,
Its edict magistrates restraint.
Unsatisfiable Form
The script doctor has lost his key.
Trusted plots no longer cohere.
What must happen becomes more free
The strictures no more severe.
Much prized arc, a three drink edict,
No longer commands proper place.
The clues scatter, need not predict,
Leave unresolved each pressing case.
You, Unsatisfiable Form,
Narrow stricture of saddest pastor,
Boxer of unreachable norm,
Maze-maker too tough to master.
In play we need not play your game,
But search elsewhere for frisky sport.
Tigers await, willingly tame,
The trip is thankfully quite short.
Life a Lyric
Let's make of life a lyric,
Nothing sly, nothing satiric.
Take full comfort in rhyming,
For life is about timing.
Find the order in rhythm,
Dub its shape a willing given.
Do not limit by another’s sense,
Do not court their audience.
Just allow the passing day
To blaze with music that it may.
Let the Question Remain Unasked
Let the question remain unasked.
Stop listening for an answer.
The wint'ring sun expires so fast.
Leaves life, a solitary dancer.
Pay no thanks to kind reply.
It yields no more than ill.
Seek out fecundity whereby
A fruit might ripen still.
Test the fit of diverse weeds.
Strut the boldened hues.
Ask not for validation.
Beware the ingratiating ruse.
The variations of themes are yours,
So too is the presentation.
Savor the dreams of variety,
Answers to your own obligation.
