FINAL FREEDOM

Is it, and must it be, an outpouring of emotion

An undeclared battle between head and heart

And yet there’s always room left for metaphor

Even when the instinct is to let words run free

As a formal structure is for some, a constraint

Inspiration can emerge from the oddest notion

Rhyme is an accident that may still play its part

Exploring all the new places not visited before

Some say the secret of poetry is to just let it be

But spelling and grammar are never just quaint

Words can irritate, or soothe like some lotion

They always trigger a response from the start

Yet if forgotten, do still wash up on the shore

As some sage once said, words have a destiny

Meanwhile, relish those scenes they can paint

Claimed as a victory if words trigger emotion

And yet thoughts can be like a crossbow dart

A wounding effect, one cannot readily ignore

Whether it is pen or sword, both speak to me

But waving that sharp quill was merely a feint