Rebel Poem {with a Clause}

This poem is not a sonnet
or a villanelle. She has no set
rhythm or rhyme to tell. She’ll
merely flow and cast her spell
………………………..(or not.)

She’s caught the anti-
virus of the rhyme, and mind.
No iambic feet here, no
trochee ties to bind
and gag her from saying
whatever on earth
………..(or wind, or fire)
she wants to say.
She’ll play along for just a little while…
Explore her stressed up rhythm; see her smile?

And then she’ll zig
………………and zag
…and flow and sway,
………and you can chase her
if you want to
…………….. (hunt her down, it’s poem season)
tuck her in your pocket,

…………………………………but she’ll never stay.
She’s never owed an ode,
or sestina’d the day. She’s got
no time for rules, this rebel
rogue-girl poem. She’s got a
leather jacket and boots just
made for walkin’ and kickin’
the crap outta the lines
you’ve drawn in this hour
-glass sand. You gotta hand
it to her, she’s happy
in her own chaotic rum
………………..-bled way.

.

{But if you coax her back, just after dark.
She just might couplet something, for a lark.}

 

Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge, day 14.