Poems written in blank verses contain a rhythm blinds b only metadors see multiples s t a n z a s d lines of one length
Each line stands alone, a solitary beat,
No rhyme to guide the words, no rules to bind,
Just the flow of thoughts, unfiltered, unconfined.
Like a river running free, without a creek.
Each stanza is a world, a window to the mind,
A glimpse into the poet's soul, a breath of fresh air,
A moment frozen in time, a moment to share,
Each line a tiny puzzle piece, waiting to be aligned.
But only the master can truly see,
The patterns and the meanings, the hidden art,
The beauty in the chaos, the music in the dark.
To them, blank verse is not just words, but poetry.