Poetry has to rhyme
No it doesn’t
That lie is just a crime
It’s meant to fixate
To inflate
The curious mind
The literate kind
Words in a verse
The gold in the purse
Of a creative person

Poetry has to rhyme
No it doesn’t
Your wrong this time
Its meant to uplift
To drift
Into a person thoughts
A charm of sorts
Letters in a line
All beautiful and fine
To read everyday

On a burning staircase stood Judy
Her skin blistering in the relentless heat
‘Come down Miss’!, cried the fireman
But Judy didn’t understand the world
As we do

As the flames rose higher
Judy’s clothes began to smoke away
‘Please, please, trust me’!, shouted the fireman
And then Judy began to sing a hymn
In her beautiful voice

Black smoke flooded her lungs
Judy tried hard to keep up the tempo
‘I have to go, I have to go’!, sobbed the fireman
Judy coughed between note and glorious note
How she was endearing

The house melted like butter
Judy was a memory in the past
‘She wouldn’t come down’, sorrowed the fireman
The song echoed in his ears
Then he wiped his eyes

A lady wears glasses to hide her eyelashes
The man in a coat seems to float
A girl is wearing a dress made to impress
The boy with a toy is acting all coy
A Jewish mans beard is treble tiered
The teenagers joke through cloudy smoke
A delivery man in shorts and a million thoughts
The polish store sells beer and more
A boarded shop is a graffiti stop
The Jamaican gent is counting his rent
A man wearing shoes reads the news
The Asians wear a frown as the meat falls down
A post box sits as the mail hits
The cars stream along like notes in a song
A dozen boxes are attracting the foxes
The ***** gives a sigh as the world drifts by

Why are you here?
Cried the man in the night
What do you seek?
Shrieked the lady in fright

So dark and so empowering
Stammered the man in the hat
Please go back to hell
Whispered the lady who strokes the cat

Like a cloak of darkness
Chirped the man on the bed
A blanket of blackness
Sang the lady to the dead

Come forward to the flame
Spoke the man wearing a tie
Cross over my darling spirit
Prayed the lady to the sky

I feel a quietness enter the room
Said the man with the shirt opened wide
Yes his sins are now forgiven
Listened the lady to her spirit guide

In the dark of the visual glare
You slowly squeezed my hand
As the images flickered on celluloid
My resistance ebbs like sand