The Poetry Lesson

“A poem shouldn’t rhyme” she said,

I thought about that hard.

“Use only the very best words” she said,

And I promised myself that I would.

Rhyme taunted and tainted my every attempt,

At crafting a beautiful poem.

Around every corner it lurked and it lured,

Siren-like reeling me in.

I ignored its advances,

And soldiered on,

Thesaurus held tight like a weapon.

Gripped by the challenge,

I hunted for words,

That were perfectly crafted in meaning.

I used words that were new,

And words that were long,

And words that were strangely sublime.

But however hard I battled away,

I was always lured backwards by rhyme.

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