Recently my mind has become a depository of rhyming words
Stacked ever higher against the day of need
Like a library with groaning shelves
Books awaiting to reveal secrets yet untold,
And now I find my vice become a habit
Without knowing it a collector I’ve become,
But for all the resource I possess
I still toil over lines that don’t want to scan
And evade my best attempts at rhyme.

But now free verse has been brought before my eyes👀
Just when I believed all verse had a cost
I’m assured meter doesn’t have to be a thing,
The stacks of rhymes that have grown so high
Can now be totally ignored,
And I can write just as I’d speak
My creations will be heard
With tortured rhymes a thing long gone
My creative liberation is now assured.

Streams of consciousness will be my thing
Messrs Joyce and Elliott can step aside,
It’s surely time to explore inner dialogue some more
Making known those thoughts
That have defied my every attempt at poem,
At last a freedom has come to me
To write just as I please,
And I hope when my thoughts reach out to you
Their meaning will be known.