He decided to leave meter and rhyme
For a time
And concentrate on free verse with
Metaphor, simile
And nothing more.
And there he went again,
Doing what he said he would leave
Behind.
His brain is like Big Ben
Moving in circles of a linear time line –
Chiming at three, six and nine,
And at twelve the last quarter of the Westminster chime
And the chiming of the hour, one at a time,
And only a single, lonely simile
And not a metaphor anywhere to see
This time,
But hopefully next time
And definitely without meter and rhyme.
Tick, tock, tick, tock
Goes the venerable London clock
Doing over and over, only that for which
It was designed —
Moving in circles of a linear time line.
Some habits are hard to break.