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Since when did a poem need to fit a certain form?

Since when was poetry a hundred words or more?

Ink spills onto the floor and what for?

A hero's sword needs only one stroke to open the door

So here I am, filling in before

Counting words, keeping score

When I only needed thirty two to soar

And express with less who I am at the core:

Earth, clay, sand, time

Brick, mortar, leaf, vine

Fire, breath, smoke, mind

Puff, rise, blue, skies

Day, sun, heat, light

Dark, silver, moon, night

Plum, wine, spirit, chime

Heart, eye, human, kind