Endless Knot

Late at night I stir the pot of fate
Following an afternoon of discontent
"What difference does destiny make?"

I dine, a meal seasoned with hate
Gods sit silently at my round table
but don't partake. I scan my plate
In search, I imagine greater goods
Then I look to the Gods and wait

"Please! Say something!" I lament
"What difference does destiny make?"
They rise to ascend; I resign to my fate

“… This 9-line poem doesn’t have any rules as far as meter or subject matter—just a rhyme scheme: abacadaba. A possible variation would be to keep the “r” lines as well and make them refrains, though I guess poets would then be writing a magic 11. That’s right! Just remove the Rs from “abracadabra,” and boom! A new poetic form.”

Poetic Forms – Robert Lee Brewer