Wednesday, February 11, 2015


                    It’s paradoxical that verse that’s bound
                    Gives better access to what is profound
                    Than unconstructed verse that rambles free
                    Yet can’t induce enlightening ecstasy.

* * *


                    The agony and ecstasy of verse                     
                    That follows meter and fulfills a form                    
                     Is that the regimen of being terse                    
                     And measuring up to a demanding norm

                    Is liberating more than verse that’s “free”                     
                    To wander willfully beyond confines                     
                    Confronting endless possibility,                     
                    Unlike right here where sound with sense combines.

                    The requisite of meeting these conditions                    
                    Requires the poet’s mind be versatile,                     
                    Arranging sound and sense in apt positions                    
                    According to the regimented style.

                    And yet, for all that ingenuity,
                    The poem flows unforced, quite naturally.