Sitting at my desk under a fluorescent lamp
On a friendly advice I deeply ponder.
“Try not to rhyme” He had said.
“Why though?” I cannot help, but wonder.
Maybe my poems all look the same,
Written in short, stubby couplets.
Or maybe they are rather lame,
Of which – sadly – I can’t be the judge
But then I recall the works of some greats,
Neruda, Shelly, Frost and the like.
“They never rhymed for the sake of a rhyme.”
Somewhere in me that fact did strike.
Rhymes are for children and not for the mature,
Though amateur, I surely am no beginner.
And it’s time to change my poetry’s nature.
But, such a transition is no easy thing.
I have to start from square number one,
Free myself from the shackles of rhyme.
My days of couplets are over and done,
No more matching of cat with mat.
Just like the way how it all began,
I’ll – once again – scribble some nonsense lines,
And will declare – with definite élan,
That these are my thoughts, when streamlined.