This IS my sonnet of discordance
Poems of imagery, theme, not structure, rhyme
Things that caress you, but heal with time
I have written strife, dissension, and dissonance
Freedom from constraint to me feels right
Yet I am clinging to this briar
As if I possess erudite
This work may sink into the mire
The urge takes me with full importance
Transforms my dense focus, quite sublime
Catch it not, it will leave without disturbance
Some might surely think me impolite
Rhyming poetry is for the pyre
Ask where is my appreciation
Have I no love for the greats of yester year
Or perhaps something is hidden interlinear
Is respect for my lyrical elders’ mere ablation
There are three whom I can most credit
Kindling care in free form poetry
Musings of Mr. Pryer threaded
With Byron, Poe, a creative coterie
Do I speak far above my station
Do I seek a new form to adhere
Dear reader please take this cognition
Creative writing should win merit
If it takes you where you have never been