Shutter Speed, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

This tapestry, imperfect cadence, no rhyme
The aperture pinpoint or diaphragm wide
When I shoot at high speed I get to decide

So slow to worry, what goes where
Deliberate with meter, some take care
The filters off, my colors I share

My trading cards not meant to be mint
The coins I collect are all a wheat cent
My prose are that rose, missing a petal

My silver unpolished, tarnished this metal
Cracked is the caldron, split is my kettle

Dare not to ask me, if I can whittle
Not even a toothpick, to pick my teeth with

Perfection is a road that does not exist
Precaution to the wind, my pen will insist
Volume my tactic, I wont resist

If of squares, the orange is imperfectly cut
If of grapes become jelly, instead of wine
If of ivy, on old brick homes now climb

If this is written under clouds not sunshine
If this is more salty and full of brine
If this kilter is off, I’ll claim it as mine

There is no dust on my bookshelf
I’ve read the encyclopedia
Of the critic’s harsh belt

My shower curtain is missing a rung
Works just as well, no one can tell

Smudge on the window, some might see
I left my fingerprint if it bothers thee
I have no baggage I carry with me

Succession, succession, numbers be
Volume my practice, my therapy

Blades, beveled, serrated, anticipated
In crosshairs, my words, countless times
The triggers and clips and bullets spray

I will not let them get their way
Their bitter almond arsenic smell
On that negativity I will not dwell.
(end)

Another poem about why I ignore my critics.