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 Apr 2018
Krista DelleFemine
My poem wasn't that great
But the comments were Fascinating
 Apr 2018
Gargi
10 failed poems later
I go running to free verse
whose arms are always open
in welcome, in acceptance,
unconditional and forgiving.

Perhaps a little cocky,
it frees me from the ropes
of syllables and meter,
allowing me space
to build, shape, and tie
my poem together
as if doing me
a favour.
Desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess?
No, she isn't a poet
has never inked one
she takes off my weight
gets my things done

so I have enough time
to afford in a way
the luxury of rhyme
clever wordplay!

No, she isn't a poet
not written one line
clean is her slate
sees I'm fine

so I have enough space
and hour of my own
to indulge the grace
of thoughts mind grown!

No, she isn't a poet
no way she would be
she does her best
to see I'm happy

so my words run smooth
poems are easy born
truth and half truth
are spun night and morn!

No, she isn't a poet
cares not a bit
from her toil's sweat
my poems birth sweet

poems aren't her art
in the sun and showers
she grows from her heart
our garden's best flowers!
A tribute to the great gardener she is.
(5 years on hp this day, thanks to all my poet friends, you gifted me a rewarding journey)

— The End —