On Form Poem by Blight Sliver

I follow convention through thick and thin.

A-B-A-B symphonies cloud my mind.

Patterns and form, the structure and the skin,

Makes sense in chaos, pieces built to bind.



Shall I try a grand allusion or two?  

And compare my woes with king crucified.

If imagery's strong will things seem more true?

At least it will show them all that I tried.



Maybe I'll reference great poetry.

In hopes my work will be likened to theirs.

I'll cling close to Blake, Coleridge, and Shelley,

Take poets secrets I wish they would share.



But no one cares about word games I play,

For what good are words with nothing to say?