A Rhyme a Day

My head is ringing every day, with all the words I need to say. All I ever think is rhyme, happens to me all the time! I’m finding rhymes in all I see, I’m in a matrix of poetry! Am I mad I have to vent? My disillusions, my discontent. Then again, an upbeat theme, so many topics I want to scream! I’ll even write about a snail or come to that my big toe nail. My wife asks what I’d like for lunch, I reply ‘something with a punch’ ‘You’re off again for goodness sake!’ but it was a perfectly innocent mistake. Is every poet just the same? We play this idiotic game, where everything we ever think, we have no choice but to ink.