In art for my Father, in politics too
Nothing contrived, could ever be true
Forms that shackled, words that stopped
Only served as the clumsiest props
Real expression, should it be coaxed
Arrived like a breath, not forced by a choke
Perhaps, we need to sit and be patient
Expecting too much from a world so ancient
Nascent art, like life, will grow
Near to the rivulet pens that flow,
Year upon year, inscribed, patient, slow.
Comments
A beautiful writing Chris
I am sure you can come up with something to meet the contest requirements, then you can replace it with this one. You still have the time ahead. Think about it.
Thank you for sharing.
Hey Rula, i have to confess...
I jumped in a bit early, with much enthusiasm, then retrospectively "bolted on" another stanza at the end which met the criteria, but it was, clumsy and too contrived, so i dropped it. i will try and do a re-write within the rules soon..
Thanks for checking it out anyway.
Chris.
Vandi
Nicely written
Thnaks Barbara..
I'll have another go and actually read the rules this time!
Vandi
It reads so smoothly and the rhyme is great