Poetry of Issue #8        Page 8

The Apparent Errant Bard

If rhyme’s constraint doth make you faint
from speaking like a bard,
it earns complaint—that’s what it ain’t,
and unlike watching drying paint
you should be left refreshed, not tard.

Good rhyme should hide somewhere inside,
like entrails, with restraint,
where they abide and can’t be spied
unless dissected, opened wide,
examined, searching for some taint.

Is rhyme too light for what is right
in poetry today?
Adverse to flight, should it not bite
and demonstrate its inner might,
reminding us it’s here to stay?

Is rhyme adverse? Is it far worse
than structures less confined?
It’s not a curse—let it converse!
Must prosody ride in a hearse
congealing what is on its mind?

Both rhyme and measure still hold treasure
as the ancients knew,
providing pleasure for mind’s leisure
(with some interrupt by caesure),
proving that their value’s true.

Should rhyme be barred; this bard be tarred
and feathered? You decide.
Since it’s been scarred with rhythm hard,
perhaps the writer should be fard
and ridiculed both far and wide.
Revoke his poet’s license card
for failure to abide!