Untitled In a world Of routine and daily life, Of respect and responsibility, Of manners and political correctness, I am trapped in a web Of expectations and limits, Rules and regulations. I fall in love with spontaneity, With the ups and downs, With chaos and disorder, With broken chains and dirty walls. I have an affair with intrigue. But I know in my heart, I am a product of the predictable, A child of patterned response, A member of social order and duty. I may be the lover of spontaneity, But a wife to routine first and forever.
Ileana Weinstein's Questions:
1. Would this poem run more smoothly in separate stanzas?
2. Does it need more colorful language?
3. Does "broken chains and dirty walls" make sense in context?
4. Any other comments to improve my poetry would be greatly appreciated.