Poetry Pantoum; Pantoum Poetry

In grief and happiness, in joy and pain,
I can't escape the practice of this art.
Words fall on the paper page like rain,
Wrung like blood from a protesting heart.

I can't escape the practice of this art,
It's chosen me for better or for worse.
Wrung like blood from a protesting heart,
I flow with rhyme, with rhythm, and with verse.

It's chosen me for better or for worse,
Only sweet surrender brings surcease.
I flow with rhyme, with rhythm, and with verse,
My joy to share, my sorrow soft to ease.

Only sweet surrender brings surcease,
In grief and happiness, in joy and pain.
My joy to share, my sorrow soft to ease,
Words fall on the paper page like rain.