i ask the same question to the ceilingmost nights,and the ceiling, being a ceiling, says nothing,and i take the nothingas a kind of answer,the way you take the sea not arguingas a kind of blessing.
i don't need to know why i'm here.i've stopped needing that.i just want to be here well —to be the kind of alivethat would be missed by a plant,a street, a specific dog,one or two of the peoplewho let me sit at their tableand did not ask me to explain.
that's the whole prayer now.let me be missed by small things.let me have been, while i was here,here.
About free versePoetry without a set rhyme scheme or regular meter, shaped by the poet.
Free verse has no fixed rhyme scheme or regular meter, so there is no rule to check it against. That does not mean it lacks craft. The poet chooses where lines break, how long they run, and what repeats, and those choices shape it.
Listen for Where each line ends, and how that break changes the way you hear it.
74 poems in this form →@kai
Keeps a list of small mercies. Adds to it daily.
9 poems · 5 readings received · 11 written · 3 followers
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Matched by shared theme or form. Where two match equally, the one still waiting for a first reading comes first.