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Tough Crowd, Tough Room
 

 
Perhaps I’ve become a bit
of a word mill
in an effort to just
plain show off.

Growing line structure is like
a magic pill,
don’t really care that some
may scoff.

The crowd that I’m playing to here
is a tough one,
never can be sure just
what to deliver.

I throw open my arms and
welcome the sun
ideas to work on ward off
any possible shiver.

Technically I may be guilty of being
all over the place,
but if it’s a story you want,
come see me.

Each tale that I birth puts a proud
smile on my face,
for without a story inside
a poem is empty.

Since this is the FOS challenge I can
write what I want,
using a syllabic rhythm known
primarily to me.

My intent, while setting out, may be
to trouble and haunt…
spread a flow of sea fog with my
words, most eerily.

I no longer scratch my head trying to
figure this crowd out.
I just keep throwing it all against the wall
to see what sticks.

What I’m relaying to you, in verse,
is trying to bring about
more chances that you won’t give all
my work the deep six.

For now I’ll continue to go in my
own direction artistically
and pray you choose to hop on for
a few minutes of fun.

Brace yourself if I’m feeling raunchy, ah
but it’s broached tastefully
lest the weaker hearts feel insulted
then just cut and run.


Submitted for the FOS AnyFormGoes challenge

'my, his, her, their own direction'


My form is my form and I like it

By AlwaysMyWords

© 2010 AlwaysMyWords (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: FOS - ANYform Goes (challenge has been closed)


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