A rhyme is a crime, some people say
inhibits the flow in each single way;
you can’t paint a picture of life as we know it
if you’re caging yourself to words that befit
an end of a line has to rhyme with the last
poor Shakespeare would turn in his grave, aghast.
And when you’re thinking of the bards of old
such stories they translated in their day
these epic tales recounted now and told
in patterns of a sonnet they did play
If Byron, Keats and Shelley were all wrong
what use is there for people such as me?
who pen their rhymes into a modern song
whilst other poets hands are truly free!
I don’t bemoan a rhyme used here and there
in fact I think they’re rather useful tricks
I never get them tangled in my hair
in awe I read their use and am transfixed.
Release your inner Shakespeare for its time
to have some fun with good old-fashioned rhyme.