They march in shackles all across the page.
Short long, short long, they limp in ordered form.
These words too orderly to show their rage
just follow rules and do not break the norm.
Line after line, rhyme shuffled out like cards.
What truth words carry comes in second place.
Are we mere croupiers or are we bards?
For in this poem, of truth there’s not a trace.
It’s more important it maintains its pace.
For dVerse Poets we are to write a novelinee, a nine-line poem in iambic pentameter and ababcdcdd rhyme scheme. To read other novelinees, go HERE. Image by Henry Cos on Unsplash. And, also for Marsha’s WQWWC prompt on Order