Poetry or Prose? Only the scholar knows, what label thoughts on paper take, or whether lines run together or break, the rules.
Do I write to please a scholar, or to empty my head of floating syllables that wake me in the night?
My answer is, that I must ignore the scholarís frown, and write down, those words, thoughts, feelings in my head, waiting to be said, before they fly away to the land of dread, doomed to fade away beneath piles of dreams broken, and things unspoken, left to lie and die in the dust of lost opportunity, and missed chance.
Form can be a friend, I treasure it to no end, but there are times when thoughts run free, and words wonít bend, or blend, to fit in a syllabic line. Thatís fine, Prose then, can be my friend, as I randomly write, into the night, words running ahead, the thoughts in my head tempting my fingers to tap the keys, begging me please, to create, allocate, and give, space for them to live, on paper.
Is this Poetry or Prose? † † the scholar knows...what do you think?