We
knew you’d write a poem, they said
And I’d, of course, complied.
My rhyming seems to be the way
I’m oft identified.
And I’d, of course, complied.
My rhyming seems to be the way
I’m oft identified.
We
all carve a persona
Other people recognize.
It’s comforting to know the way
We’re seen through others’ eyes.
Other people recognize.
It’s comforting to know the way
We’re seen through others’ eyes.
Yet
expectations raise the bar
And leave us little choice.
Our friends and family want to hear
That old familiar voice.
And leave us little choice.
Our friends and family want to hear
That old familiar voice.
For
me, I’m just as happy
Doing that which is expected.
If I did otherwise, I think
Surprise would be reflected.
Doing that which is expected.
If I did otherwise, I think
Surprise would be reflected.
And
yet I wonder what they’d feel
If I would write in prose -
Relief or disappointment?
That’s the question, I suppose.
If I would write in prose -
Relief or disappointment?
That’s the question, I suppose.
to write in prose
ReplyDeletei suppose
might be as easy
as finding your
nose-
it's a different beat,
like a different street,
when you're there
you'll know it,
'cause even in prose you're
still the poet.
very wise and profound,
ReplyDeletebut to rhyme i feel bound.
still, i like what you say
and may try it some day...