Poetry Sunday - On Poetry That Doth Rhyme

It's Sunday once again
For fictive things to pen.

Here is a little poem which has a companion which I'll save for later. Appropriately, it is about poetry. This is not a particularly subtle nor sensual poem, but it's fun, hopefully, for children of all ages. Call your kids. You get to make your own, and then decide which one you like better.


On Poetry That Doth Rhyme

I don't prefer to waste my time
On reading words because they tune,
And even worse, there's no excuse
For singsong verse like Mother Duck.
Our language, I affirm, is wrought
So no rhymed term promotes deep view,
As humdrum bards but place their faith
In slotting words to make an octet.
Forsaking head, they beat retreat
To think instead by using tootsies.
As rhyming replaces thinking and thinking's replaced by fun,
One need select a pattern, a rhyming word, and fini!
Unbuckle! profound adventure from selfsame sound.
Break! novel thought from a jingle round.

If poetry is using words to go beyond them,
Then notably, why choose mere turds for rhyming bond when
Life most clearly dressed, oft fails in rhymingness.