What Love Might Say

What Love Might Say! I don’t construe to earn the love of folks I’ll never meet and yet I share my heart, my soul and place them at your feet, aspire instead to share my life and do so with some art. I don’t require World’s praise or fame but hope to play a part in making Earth a kinder place, with ‘metered verse’ that rhymes. Though Stanford brands my dream to be more relic of the past, says verse that sings is so passé and doomed (will never last), that minds more “blank” (their words), and “free” frame fame in modern times, I beg to differ! Slackers quail, still one can learn from them, but discipline is no mistake and can’t be bought or whim? And ‘blank verse’ poets claim it too, it’s true, ‘blank verse’ can flow, a discipline that’s worth respect, which rhymers also know! Let me not judge ‘words place on page’ that claims to show some skill, muse diarrhea, babble’s stream, means jump to feet, salute? I’d rather praise ‘blank page’ as art and call its muse astute! Lines skipped, words prance (or dance around): carved stiff shows puppet’s will or parrots will of sycophants (as lazy as bum’s muse)! I’ll buy your sh*t, and you buy mine, imaginations fuse, diversity of view’s mute victim found where form prevails and lovely thoughts meet death at last, Don Juan's pursuit of tails! ‘Free verse’ flaunts lack of rhythm, rhyme, its output plates with gold! But truth? Free’s like an emperor who wears transparent clothes, ambition’s bare! ‘Free verse’ has worth and can be valued prose. But rise to claim it’s poetry? Real Love might say, “That’s bold!” Brian Johnston 12th of August in 2020