to think that creativity could
forever be constrained, or should,
be forced, contorted, folded,
into something like this -
a poem so cold
as hideous,
broken, with
nothing
told
----
to think that writers, times of old,
would meet, confer, create their hold,
on writing, living, breathing, fighting,
seems naught but folly, mere contriting.
they wrote the way they thought was nice,
what worked for them, were they so wise?
for had they known what they had done,
creating rules where there were none,
for all in time to follow, no sign,
just mindless fools who follow a line,
though where it leads they know not where,
whether to rampart, or merely thin air,
much less a glare, there's nothing there...
Author notes
i hate set structure.
i sat down to write, and that was all i could think about...hum.
[no]net.
as far as the judging goes for that contest, i suppose the first nine lines up there are my entry...
A contest entry
- Round 3 ~ of 5 - ONLY 15 will advance to the FINAL ROUND by Florida Sunshine.
525 points, ended November 8, 2007, 15 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
any thoughts?
Comments
-
hehe this is cool, I entered that contest, I'm with you, I hate set structure, I couldn't do it lol
But I liked your idea of writing about how you hate writing in form, in form, it's like writing about having writers block, I like that kind of creativity...
Awesome job, congrats on the silver, it was well earned =)
-
You know ~ this is very clever~ I really like the way you used the "force" of being told which way to your required to write into your form. Conformity isn't always what life is about. Those who rebel against make new paths new directions for all. God Bless the Rebel~ Think of all the things we wouldn't have if we didn't rebel.
Nice job~ congrats on making it this far... good luck to you!
Adding your comment:
