I like to write poems off the top of my head, the closest I’ll get to free styling. Share yours!
I’ll start: ahem
My wife called me a Mystie,
Which got me misty eyed.
She used to look at me with disgust,
But now with a sense of pride.
She didn’t understand the riffing,
She didn’t get the jokes.
She would rather watch the movie,
Then listen to those folks!
But now she teases and prods,
Poking fun at movies with me,
She called me a Mystie today,
But really we are a Mystie family.
I clicked, I clicked
I clicked into this thread.
And memories of lost abilities
came chargingly into my empty head
For once, yes, a poet was I
with all the prose and cons
such a title might imply
And in your eyes I can faintly detect
a sense both of wonder and also regret
For allowing my declamation to proceed
when clearly there is no pressing need
to concede to feed my poet’s ego
(which, I say, left long ago)
Oh how I ramble on and on
and bring a shameful disgrace upon
and so anon
I shall render my name
so no one receives the blame
While I can respect typing swift po’try
And such posts rival any by Goulart*
Such rhyme and meter I shall never see
Free verse shall never capture my true heart
Like playing tennis without a strong net**
Or puffing Madison’s old crystal flute
A poem that neglects both form and style
Has yet to be one for to give a hoot
Keep your beatniks, Williams, and Angelou
And I shall stick to Poe and Will and Frost
May history preserve the good and true
And unworthy to time be good and lost
For I will take this to my cold, dark grave
The greatest verse must service Burma Shave
*The late author of Tek-War
**Apologies to Robert Frost
Crap. I meant to work in a bit about iambic pentameter…