POTATO TIME™

Opening lines

don’t matter in poetry.

They only serve as

a welcome mat and

after that are forgotten.

As the poem gets underway

the part that they played

fades in your memory.

The way that they drew you in,

and made you begin reading,

or listening,

if these words are said aloud,

cutting through the crowd to

draw your attention.

The power of the opening line,

and the gravitas it held

is now gone

and we live in the dawn

of a new age,

the age of the last word,

that once heard sticks around

as your eyes race down

to the bottom of the page to see

what might be

in the final stanzas,

a bonanza of rhyming couplets

chiming in at the last

impass,

as we reach the impend,

of

the end.

By Fudge Cooper