There is no set formula for writing free verse poems. What you say and how you say it may fall easily into place one day, but the next time it may prove to be a challenge. This poem came to me walking on Union Street in Brooklyn during my first year living and working in New York City. I tried to capture the moment, the scene, Small moments in time lend themselves to free verse poetry.
CHICKEN BONES AND DEAD UMBRELLAS
It's a wet, wild, windswept day
Shiny and slippery
The last of the golden fall leaves
Lie plastered to the sidewalk
A squelchy carpet
For me to trudge over
In my sturdy leather boots
Amid the leaves I spot chicken bones
And a dead umbrella.
Alan j Wright