Modern Poetry
I really cannot reason why,
maybe because I’m thick,
if poetry is not in rhyme
my mind won’t make it click.
I start to read a poets work,
sublime when it’s in rhyme
but if it’s not, alas, I find
I struggle every time.
It isn’t there’s no beauty there
the subjects are divine,
such mastery of woven words
immersed in every line.
Occasionally it captures me
while on it’s theme I dine
and at these times I realise
not everything must rhyme.
I struggle on in my dismay
and read just what I can,
if only I could break my mould
I’d be a better man.
The poets who admire my work
and comment it is fine
must wonder why I don’t respond
unless ‘they’ write in rhyme.
I know I do occasionally
when lifted by their words
but I would like to all the time,
this mental block’s absurd.
So may I thank you everyone
who reads and takes the time
to comment on a selfish sod
who only writes in rhyme.
Ivor G Davies
Copyright © Ivor Davies | Year Posted 2015
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