WHY WRITE A VERSE?
I write to find out what is on my mind:
I don’t know what I think until I see
What I’ve to say and where my thought’s inclined,
Until which, it remains a mystery—
Especially so when I compose a verse,
Engaged with finding rhymes and hitting beats
Which somehow make my memory disburse
A happy phrase as good, perhaps, as Keats’,
And, if a sonnet, then it heads for home
Too late to bring up any new concern,
No room to let imagination roam
Because we’re at the couplet now and must
Make do with one last rhythmic, rhyming thrust.