Firestone Friday: Poem XXI

A powerful freedom

exists in knowing

that your identity,

your unchanging essence,

and your inextricable value,

do not rest

in production,

so whether you produce

triumphs or failures

or nothing at all,

you remain

as richly radiant

as you always have.

Touchstone Tuesday: Poem VIII

A poem is not a poem
if it doesn’t rhyme.
And a song isn’t music
if it’s out of time.
Language isn’t proper
if the grammar falls,
and a piece isn’t literature
until a publisher calls.

But, the listener laughs,
for he knows
that art is actually
full of shadows —
without rhythm
and without form,
art isn’t order
but, instead, a wild storm.
To burden word
with prescriptive rules
and to press down expression
as if a footstool
is to empty art
of its power,
to pluck to death
a vibrant flower.

Strong Language

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