At forty-five, I found my voice;
It was like music to my ears.
My feet moved to the melody.
I danced for the first time in years.
I felt the tension fade away
As lyrics invaded my soul.
A brilliant diamond, I burned bright,
Ne’er again just a lump of coal.
(A stop sign poem is another of my mishmashed inventions, first introduced in the 2020 Poetry Marathon. The stop sign poem is composed of eight lines, each consisting of eight syllables. To take it a step further, I developed the “Multi-way Stop Sign,” where the number of total stanzas determines the numbered way of the stop sign. For instance, four stop sign stanzas would be known as a “Four Way Stop Sign” poem.)
I love forms, especially ones poets create. This is rigid in structure but free and liquid in language, and metaphoric as it moves, dances, sings. Thank you for sharing the poem and the form!