33/M/Australia Started writing at 16. Personal study of poetic form, with my main focus being Haiku, sonnet and Villanelle. I write free and blank verse also.
Live in Australia. Married with one boy and another on the way.
I am a poet. Not a writer. 7 followers / 3.4k words
Should you debase, the structure in place, which seemingly lives here without a trace? Or see with due cause, the untimely flaws which poets detect and mold without pause?
What are we to do? I have a wide view of what should be done in poetic tune. But the fools of today would take that away, and tell us rhyme has long since had it's day.
Just imagine a while, each scribe has a style. Is it right for them to blindly defile a brave institution, which came to fruition long before they even held an ambition
to fight against rhyme. To fight against time. Oh... to see their mad schemes is surely a crime. So I ask of my muse, 'What way would you choose?' But she turns away, for fear she should lose.
It sits, plain to see, conveying to me, a message that writing is drowning... silently. If you relax your pen, step backward and then you'll see the rhythm the world is, and when you finally see, the things I can see... maybe the world will truly be free.
Truth is, a scale. A weight. A line between distance. A time within patience. Hope within strength. The grey in your hair. The blew in the wind. The cold in a heart. The posture of deception. The curve of a smile. The flow in the air. The faith of a spirit. The love of a God. The shower in the rain. The burn in the sun. The focus in the study.