I don't want to be part of their fashion
to write in a way that will
fit
sit tight and pretend
endless learnedness I don't possess
less a part of an Art than a cypher
burdened down with their falsity
tedious tearing destroying the magic of words
-
Birds in the air drawn in flock and in group
swooping the treeline in vistas
dazzling eyesight and teasing the intellect
decked in a fringilous feathery finery
reeling and roaming or romping a tree
renewing the Art with original act
fracturing ego and following flow - racing around as
the birds
words fitting spaces
quizzical quirkiness clapped on the back
Cracking a joke with a horse-fly remembered
curdling whoops from a flat-fish
borders of poesy flourishing flowers
purrs from the catmint
Wintering seeds that were crossed
fostering hope of a flower enormous
mustering perfume to shock and amaze
raising its petals in colour de Triomphe to show
No rhyme must be partner to fashion
spun words can tangentially spread
sedition is part of the Art of a thought
brought to spangle the world with idea
aware of its craftsmanship - wary the same
famous craft is a fashion that stays
brazenly copied - and not very well
spelling out rhyme that won't scan
pandering Shakespeare Byron or Pope
hopelessly driving in boredom away
they who would listen
Sundering ties with the rest of the world
hurled into videos football and money
heedless of poems they don't understand
handing a poet just one final question..
Wondering - when there's no monetary gain
vain as a poet may be
dreaming - as all poets dream - of his fame
maiming his words to appease their strange fashion
running away from original sight
blighting the Art down to cop-out and lie
Why?
6.4.96.CPR
This poem was written as a 'proving poem' in a style and rhyme to protest at those with the tape measures and the rules - but with a dearth of imagination. It is meant to be performed, in a bright lively voice. The line stops are also voice stops
