The bone of contention

He said

It doesn’t rhyme

I said

It isn’t supposed to

He said

I thought poetry was supposed to rhyme

I sigh

Take a deep breath

And say

You’re right

You’re welcome

He just told me something he didn’t know

And wanders away smug and smiling

But so am I

And peaceful

You cannot waste energy discussing interiors

With people who prefer team sports and the comfort of crowds

One is binary

This vs that

While in the basal company of “them”

Poetry is a solitary flight in an inner realm




Descending in precipitation

That strikes everyone differently

Yes it is wet

We can all agree

So let’s leave it at that

Because there is something to disagreement

Upon being mutually agreed

That is fine

Leaving no further lines to be walked, dotted, crossed or added

People are not passions and everyone is different

Yet everyone matters


My argument bone is well rested

It grows strong


And rarely jumps anymore

When tapped with a hammer

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