***
Free verse,
You are a very tricky thing.
Rhymes will confine, contain, but give you structure;
Meter will direct you;
Alliteration
Is even more specific.
But free verse?
How can you keep this thing
From turning into prose?
It flies, it’s free,
It flows and flows,
You never know where
It wants to be.
So here it goes.
Not in the intended direction.
***
November.
Bare trees.
The grey trunks
Stick out of grey dirt
Under the grey sky.
And a random splash of colour –
A kite
Stuck in the branches.
***
That’s how a string
Breaks in the middle of a solo,
And lyrics sink
In the noise of the crowd.
That’s how a crazy mouse
Chews through a wire
And lights go out,
Leaving a couple of dim lamps.
That’s how a battery
Dies in a camera,
And it seems impossible
To take what you see
With you
To a warm and quiet
Sunny afternoon,
In order to calmly
Look at it, think of it,
Sort it out,
Live it through,
Let it heal.
***
Horses
Eat main courses,
But boats
Eat just oats.
Cars
Like chocolate bars,
Especially Mars,
While grazing at the stars.
But mooms
And vooms
Prefer booroom-boorooms.
***
When it comes to culture,
I’m a dangerous vulture.