Poetic Forms

It is that blasted third eye

reading all that is left behind.

Abstract poetry

to evoke sounds and rhythm

as opposed to the ocean

between us.

I remember my alphabet poetry

in one of my blog posts

prompted by touching you

and losing you in twelve hours.

I wrote an Elegy

for my father

and read it out loud 

made everyone tear

congratulate me

on all the things

they know nothing about.
There a few haikus 

somewhere

but they seem to hold

me down

rather than free me.
I wrote a Greek epitaph

in Ancient strolls.

There are a few sonnets

on art and love

in my poetry book

something Shakespearean

about love sonnets

and mistress’ eyes,

but who knows the difference

these days

between terms

and hashtags.
The Ode to Steve is

also in my poetry book,

he was hit by a car

riding his bike

on Mont-Royal

and I wrote him a poem

(A few of them)

one went with him

since he loved my angelic laugh

and intellect.
Narratives are where I sleep

most days

zombie writing

mouth drying Task

to want to tell you so much 

but  

too busy

to take a minute

and bleed out the facts.
All the forms I missed out on

are waiting to be explored,

but all your eyes can see

is my skin on paper.

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