The Trouble With Verse
The trouble with verse is it runs round my brain/
and colours my writing again and again./
Waltz time's the worst, as it feels so entrancing/
- one two three one two three, twirling and dancing.//
Jumpy metre's just as bad./
Alliteration drives me mad./
Another problem's punctuation./
Tricky words like "delectation,"/
"politics" and "recondite"/
have no place in what I write.//
And then there's the case of the limerick:/
Once thought of it's hard to be rid of it./
It nags to be said/
In kitchen and bed/
de diddle de dums till I'm sick of it.//
At penning songs I have no skill:/
just tunes repeat, as some tunes will,/
taunting me to give them more/
than fiddle-and-bow and folky score.//
The englyn in English is angled to tease;/
A stately sonnet aims to please/
or anger or sadden./
An epic might madden./
Blank verse is my forte, without any doubt./
But, for all my complaining, I can't leave rhyme out!
and colours my writing again and again./
Waltz time's the worst, as it feels so entrancing/
- one two three one two three, twirling and dancing.//
Jumpy metre's just as bad./
Alliteration drives me mad./
Another problem's punctuation./
Tricky words like "delectation,"/
"politics" and "recondite"/
have no place in what I write.//
And then there's the case of the limerick:/
Once thought of it's hard to be rid of it./
It nags to be said/
In kitchen and bed/
de diddle de dums till I'm sick of it.//
At penning songs I have no skill:/
just tunes repeat, as some tunes will,/
taunting me to give them more/
than fiddle-and-bow and folky score.//
The englyn in English is angled to tease;/
A stately sonnet aims to please/
or anger or sadden./
An epic might madden./
Blank verse is my forte, without any doubt./
But, for all my complaining, I can't leave rhyme out!
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