This brief exercise meant as a repartee to a Poet on Authorsden, where I mistakenly offered to realign his poetry, which I considered was badly out of step, the offer was rejected as he maintained he hated metric verse and that the disjointed verse was intentional.

 I have no reason to disagree with him, other than I probably irrationally dislike rhyming poetry that wanders in and out of step like a mad donkey and in all fairness, he does write some nice free verse on occasion. So we just agree to differ, he goes his way and I go mine to where the twain shall never meet.

For those that can and those that won’t

and those who never will.

What poem read, or self avaunt,

our choice remains there still.

To stay in step or traipse along

in words that seem vagarious,

What memory then the little song,

that bears animi in bareness.

Free verse nonce words are soon forgot

we dance not to their bidding.

What structure built from mind’s marplot

sees Incubus in gyving.

So let me walk my lonely path,

my songs are mine they seek no wrath.

And if they should in briefness stay

Despair I not, if they  recede away.