Poetically retentive

This is not really my usual sort of poetry, just a bit of fun. I am not good at free verse.

Poetically retentive

With mathematical precision I count every beat
From beginning to end of each line
They must be concise and perfect and true
And every so often must rhyme

No freedom of verse or lyrical waxing
No skipping a meter or two
Iambic, trochaic or even dactylic
I just can’t get away from this view

So give me the sound of a heroic couplet
At the end of a sonnet’s quatrain
And leave out the free in the dreaded ‘free verse’
From such abandon I choose to abstain

This looseness, this freedom, this modern approach
Would make Shakespeare quite turn in his grave
Sestinas and pantoums or even a haiku
Is the poetic challenge I crave

But sometimes I wish I could open the window
And let all the verses run free
Oh, the burden of being so precise all the time
Is boring the hell out of me!


My first poetic blog. Enjoy….. or not.


The hat was pink and floppy with a large, bright pin.
Her hair flowing, flowing forever
Over her loose Indian smock

He was stiff like his hat, 
A stiff black hat with a black band, 
A funeral hat for every day

He hated her hat, 
Her pink floppy hat,
He loved her without the hat,
The pink floppy hat

She wished he would take off the stiff black hat.
Did he wear it in bed? In the bath?
She could love him without the hat, 
The stiff black hat

She went to the river,
Flowing, flowing forever, 
And threw in the hat,
The pink floppy hat

He went to the cliffs,
The high black cliffs and jumped…