Poetry’s not an English lecture

Counting out the words per line

We’re not about childhood conjecture

Should that be eight beats here, or nine?

We use this art to speak aloud

Of things that make our spirits glow

Making our ideas stand proud

In forms that boost creative flow

It brings us to a worthy place

In which to let our muse run free

Whilst bearer of the pen gives chase

Until they finally agree

So worry less of syllable count

Let loose the book of grammar rules

Each line is formed, not by account,

But by the use of mental tools

Embrace the root of all your thoughts

Just let your spirit guide you on

The forms will fit themselves with ease

And words and poet will be one

In due course grammar joins the throng

And punctuation finds a place

You’ll see then, what they’ve brought along

To give your words a warm embrace.