I sat me down

my Poet Me

for discipline's tight regime,

hollowing out clear intent

for syntax, line breaks and such.

Meter, Rhyme and Rhythm too

joined the group.

We discussed Constructs

and Literati.

'Now, I am in charge here' Poet said.

'everyone of you has a role.

At my pen

you'll line up

while I align your countenances.

Every poem like an orchestra,

needs a conductor,

the welder of Word and Form,

the rest of you are instruments

to play my minor chords'

'Well' said Rhythm, 'nothing fits

without me.

I am the heart-beat,

the sail upon the sea;

I am the up and down

nothing moves without me.'

'No' said Rhyme, 'I am the

music line, the melody sublime.

My efforts elicit;

guide the listener ship.

I am the note's completion.With my friend Meter

we are the helm of this ship'

The Reader said 'No I am the ultimate.

I'm the Consumer of the Trade.

Who prevails in all of this

is only for me to say.'

'All of you are undisciplined,

are nothing, ' said Cacophony

'I'm the proof of that.'

'Where would you all be

without me? ' Emotion, said

who could barely constrain himself,

'no emotion no feeling, no poetry.

That's my motto.'

'No me, no me, ' rang out

and everyone talked all the same

Me, Poet Me and I,

had lost control

of them.

Til' at the door the familiar knock;

the owner of the house returning.

Figure quite imposing,

came in

sat down

thumping on the table.

'Everyone quiet down and listen up

here is what we are doing.'

In minutes all the quarrelsome brethren

lined up picture perfect.

Each took his place

sang his best

in the final orchestral poem.

Each time it goes this way.

I tend to forget.

Poet Me, I and all the rest

exist only in Imagination's Mind

flowing.

in this the best

of all possible

poetically inspired

word, meter, rhythm and

syntax-governed

poetic worlds.