Metered

They say, they all say, all you need to write poetry is pain and a distaste for proper punctuation, but that is a joke. Isn’t good enough. Four words, line break, five words line break. Counting syllables and trying, thesaurusly, for alliteration, or the opposite of that. Of words that squeal, slam and crash like a car accident. Broken glass, awkward, pauses on the precipice.

Of something or other. Great truth, or greater even, or more than likely not. Harmony and discord, images and sounds staying married, but only until the kids are old enough to move out. And rhyme.

 

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