An Over

We all play with words
Muddling the meanings and pronouncements
Disguising truths, slant and gaunt,
To wither the day’s end

But should we do so plainly
With no flourish or figure
Do we write but roots and fifths
So as to ease and understand

What is there in art
Without art and its sake
Remove the soul and delight in the husk
No metaphor or scheme; spondee or anapest

The reader too terse
Just thoughts in verse


2 thoughts on “An Over

  1. It’s the eternal question not just of poetry, but of all art: how do we define it? Does it have to fit into traditional methods and orders? If it’s experimental, does it count?

    “Remove the soul” … perhaps that is the test. If you remove the soul, and something is still there, perhaps it isn’t art — art needs soul.

    (I am, obviously, quite behind on my blog reading! I did notice there were a bunch of new posts from you — looking forward to reading them!)

    Hope your summer has been well …

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