I can’t force a
rhyme to work every time, ‘cause the strength of our language is frail
Words can't be
compelled, and if the tempo won’t meld, formation cannot be created
If the rhyme it won't come, then there's no rule of thumb, and my effort will end up deflated
It’s a case of
persuasion to reach an equation that satisfies rhythm and rhyme
At the end of
the day, I know what to say, ‘cause each poem I make is so mine
While my goal it
is clear, I’m a rhythmic pioneer, every line that you read is unique
Each word it is
placed with meaning embraced by the result which itself is boutique
There’s an effort
that goes into each line of prose, before it reaches your eyes
These stanzas I write, each and every night, are sometimes so hard to devise
They're designed to
bring pleasure of only small measure, to draw out a grin or a smile
If a rhyme I present,
then my time was well spent, and my effort it has been worthwhile
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