Why don’t poems rhyme?
They are stubborn words
scrawled across paper
Refusing to fly like birds
Stanzas pile against the page
It makes me sick with rage.
Their A B format
smothering my imagination.
My brain resistant they scatter
creating one nation.
And they still don’t rhyme
Poets laboriously slave over their vocabulary
god knows they have time
Pencils glide along side a poet's hand
words stringing together like guitars in a band
But where are the rhymes?
Their endless stream of of words
a symphony of chimes.
Each syllable separate but together
calling to the world
An urgent whisper to hither
A great cacophony of voices
uncertain of their choices
They chant their incantation
a furious song of the nation.
Why don’t poems rhyme?
Cause baby you got time.
- S.E.
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