Poem: Wordsmith

I

was

Told 

How to write

Not

What

How

But whenever I wrote

I was told I was

Wonky

I didn't follow iambic pentameters or preconstructed structures

I simply wrote

And wrote

Wrote

In the moment

A space in time

Cobbled together with nails and hammer

A happy bubble 

From a glass blowers pipe

Fired up with coals and molten metal

Into

An enclosure 

Where the wild beast

Was tamed

They said my words were perfectly lovely 

Had a sense of meaning from my soul 

Urgent and hungry 

Words that sang and sparked

Peeking out of a dark corner 

Of a timber slatted warehouse

On a port

Ready to take float

Ebbed into the horizon

But that 

There was no structure 

That made sense

Knocking my head back

Laughter would rise in me

Oh my teacher 

Why make sense 

Of something 

So poor

A fabric with too many holes

Moth eaten, mangy 

Words 

Can never convey how I feel

Words 

Words! 

Words?

Are overrated