People tell me poems don’t need to rhyme, why not?
Have poets lost the plot?
Maybe they are busy and have no time to find a rhyme.
Did I say turpentine?
A rhyme does not need to be exact, that is a fact.
Get your act together, I said your act.
You strut about the stage and on the page.
You fill me with rage.
Luckily I am a mild mannered man.
Your poems don’t even scan.
Your sheer meaninglessness is a mess.
You defile the name of poetry, you are corrupt.
When I speak, please don’t interrupt.
The Muse may whisper in your ear, come here, come here.
Its not all about you, you ultimate disgrace.
Poetry has a lovely face.
You put people off what they should enjoy.
I had more sense when I was a boy.
Poetry, I say, shall be born again.
The burning question, when?
Why wait till then?
I will have more to say another day.
In the meantime, go away.
14th September, 2016