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My Humble Distaste For Open-Form Poetry

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What be that open-form poetry?
Some call it a free verse,
But any one man can freely verse anything that they want to,
With little thought.
But,
Like a wolf;
Free.
But freedom is not always poetic, as it turns out.
Without rhythm, without rhyme, without any rules,
How does it catch the eye of the reader?
What good is a poem, without structure?
It may have heart, but what good is a heart without a brain?
Any simple-minded fellow could write this,
With no conception of what poetic art is.
Yes, while there might be some precious gems
In the millions of useless rocks,
The problem lies with the rocks.
And how easy they are to find.
In fact, you might have just finished reading one of those rocks right now.






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