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“Rhyme Zone Dot Com”
3/5/24 - 3:31 PM
Creativity strains to push these words,
I fear my muse has gone with the birds,
to fly away and hide from me.
Tell me, God, what's this blasphemy
that my pen is forced to write in rhyme?
I'd call it childish any other time.
I hate the confines of such a verse
to make this line sound like the first.
I've spent my adulthood avoiding you
convinced you cheapen what words can ensue
A-A, B-B, and on like a song
There's never been a style so wrong.
So what do I then think of this?
Double the trouble by skipping lines.
What kind of poet could ever miss
scraping at sounds to match words behind.
I'm gritting my teeth at this exercise,
So ready to break from this chirpy song,
Resisting the urge to punch my own thighs,
I'll tell you this won't last too long.
And I meant it.
I really do hate having to dictate my word choice
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