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About This Author
 Writing poetry allows me to exercise my imagination and share it with others. I strive to write for the benefit of the reader using carnival fun mirror images of my life's experiences.
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His father fumed, Like fireworks on the 4th of July, Reneging on his promise to purchase a car for his son, If, instead of enlisting in the navy, He stayed near for the year following graduation, And helped out on the farm. His son swore his personal revolution, 240 years after the brave forefathers of our country, Fought against tyranny. The son wondered about his labor. Loads of steaming stinking manure, Forked out of the cattle barn, Bushels of field corn scooped into cribs, Brown bales of hay wrestled onto wagons, Then muscled into baking hot mows, Completely unappreciated, As if he and his efforts, Had no worth. The son moaned at the meaning of, Beast of burden, Because he was one. He was promised the fruits of freedom, Only to be provided watermelon and barbecue. A blatant bait and switch. He dialed the recruiter and declared his own independence, Resolved to forgive and love his father from afar, Rather than remain around, And hate him for the rest of his life. (28 Lines) Free verse: Poetry that has no regular meter or rhythm yet uses other poetic devices to provide artistic expression.
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