a poem never to be read aloud
When i say to the aspiring sublime:
"A waste of words is an abomination,
Publish or Perish is not your situation,"
i alliterate and i rime.
Yet, where the sounds don't keep chime,
the verse writers at home and in their offices
sadly confuse visual and aural devices
to concoct an excuse for their cheap 'rhyme'.
Letters only spelled the same on paper
are false notes that jar the genuine ear,
skilless discords the true listener won't bear,
where real rime is to be beauty's shaper.
Love, over and above,
is the term literally abused most.
Many a reader will suddenly get lost,
when it's paired with dove instead of dove.
Good poetry needs no rime, like wine no bush.
The poor 'eye-rhyming' rimester
who submits a piece each trimester
i therefore tell (for i'd rather not push):
"Please, don't publish and don't perish,
forget your fears,
first wait nine years."
It's an ancient advice we ought to cherish.
Vincent van Mechelen