Poetic Perfection

Poetry

Never demanded

To be perfect

We just assumed

Funny how

Perfection deters pen

And writer’s block blocks

From starting again

What we assumed Perfection be

Was Practice rather simply

We fools forget

How easily we are fooled

Confusing confidence for Perfection

In love

In work

In art

In poetry

Perfection

A mirage

We’ll never catch

Stanzas

Iambic pentameter

Rhythm and verse

Practice is well within

Our mortal universe

Poetry

Never demanded

Perfection from her People

Examine the life of any Poet

Who wrote a free form in the fifth grade

The teacher

Still accepted

The poem

Of the

Back-of-the-class kid

Whose poetic pursuit

Of only consisted

“Roses are red”

And

“Violets are blue”

Unpopular opinion:

Poetry is simpler

Than sentence dominion

Poetry is the core

Of Life communication

Sentence structure:

She demands punctuation

and staunch middle school

grammatical perfection.

Poetry,

She is flexible

Playful

Structure fluid and feeble

She is open

Lovely lyrical

And with feather pen

Craft a miracle

Our brains don’t speak

In perfect proper sentences

And Poetry,

She captures this

In broken, beautiful phrases

We are fools

But not all foolish fools

Rather intelligent fools

For foolish fools feel

That there must be structure

In order to be real

Intelligent fools, however

We believe

In the beauty of disorganized

Unstructured chaotic sleeve

Practice

Or perfection

Practice

Or

Perfection

Practice in time

To Poetic Perfection

She will lead

Entirely different

From ordinary

Perfection indeed