Forgive but if you give me
some slack, delay your departure
as I attempt to sort
through this poetic exercise
by reviving this obscure form
into something new and ancient
Perhaps I’ll feel less ancient
at least the brain inside that’s me
will take on a less aged form
delaying insidious omens of departure
though this six-focused exercise
this amusingly complex sorting
of words into a rigorous sort
mixing the modern with the ancient
in a grandiose but gratifying exercise
for someone alarmingly obtuse, that’s me.
True it’s a silly but venerable departure
from the usual free form
poetry of today, a studious reforming
of strict word and line sequences sorted
as a puzzle with no allowed departure
from rules set by ancient
scribblers and stumbled upon by me
in search of a writing exercise
to accompany a new physical exercise
program to improve the bodily form
comprising the being that’s me;
mind and body in a sort
of new union not yet too ancient
to stand firm against an immediate departure.
The first and last words of any departure
are the hardest as are the strains of exercise
wresting one hobbled by ancient
habits into a different form,
a healthier yet still complex sort
so please have mercy on me.
Must ancient rules of departure
apply to me? A self-imposed exercise
can form a mind ever out of sorts.