Unentitled, Installment Eight Structure and rhyme scheme lend a haunting kind of quality to the words, making them and the concepts brought to fore more memorable, stick-in-your-head kind of like actual melodied Song. “Frogs Agog” © 5 lines Though I have had snippets of the Free Form stuck in my head sometimes, too, and have […]

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Unentitled, Installment Seven Thinking to rescue Poetry from its own reclusion, proselytizing the radical (I now know, since I know I’m not a poet, but did not know then, when I thought I was a poet) revelation that Poetry had abdicated its responsibility to touch as many lives deeply as possible by deliberately downplaying mass […]

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Unentitled, Installment Six Since the poetry experts like to dissect and examine the works, finding meanings in wordings nuances the poet may or may have not also realized, like puzzles kind of, I guessed poets like weaving in multiple wording-senses for people to puzzle out.    At least I did; loved making up new wordages […]

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Unentitled, Installment Five Wouldn’t it be nice, imagine, if Leadership were guided by respect and trust, rather than ignorance and contempt, of Intelligentsia’s insight and perception? “Moré” © 8 lines Why is the Limerick so effective?    To illustrate rhythm’s power, strip away the thoughts, words, ideas, push it all to pure sound, and Hearers […]

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Unentitled, Installment Four The limerick is a familiar and useful frame, for a silly facet on perhaps a graver issue, “Student Dormants” © 5 lines just an amusing observation on student behavior.    Or . . . some Reader or Watcher may realize something is afoul, and try to find ways to get them healthier studying environments, better […]

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Unentitled, Installment Three Went to other poet things whenever I could, but never quite mixed in; other poets enjoyed a much genteeler lifestyle than mine — rough, often ungroomed; different wavelengths, different tastes, same planet, different worlds.   And through a great comedy of misunderstandings it got stuck in my head that most other poets wished, […]

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Introduction to “The Mess.”

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Long ago, upon a time, I thought I was a poet, and thought certain things, in the Realm of True Poetry, to be true: Poetry is an art form, so therefore bears responsibility to touch as many lives deeply as possible, and the . . .

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