Swathes of words, forms, meter.
Colours bright, objects defined,
Sometimes even a rhyme sublime
But you know, not all the time.
Humour, drama in equal proportions
Concocted, rabidly written
Sauntering silently scrawling on
Engaging in alliteration
Scritching scratching on the page
Pen dipped in onomatopoeic fiction,
Which I hear is all the rage.
And not a serious predilection.
With Haiku, pantoum, syllables counted,
Rhythm and meter often flouted.
Obey the only one holy law,
Enjoy your writing, it’s not a chore.