Poem Poem by Paul Butters
Poem
My sister wants my poems to rhyme,
To write blank verse is just a crime,
“It isn’t poetry if it doesn’t rhyme, ”
She says, and really must keep time,
By scanning line by line.
Yet it would be as much a crime,
To make it rhyme, yes, every time,
And truth to say I see no point in trying.
As apple blossom scents the Springtime day,
With sultry summer on the way,
I have a more melodious tune to play.
The lambs have gambolled, swallows here,
Those bees are buzzing, never fear,
That sun is shining, sky is clear.
Let’s walk the forest, breathe the air,
Then snuggle down in that comfy chair.
Yes. It is. What the title says, I mean. Golden rule in life: never listen to your sister. Just ask my brother. :) I enjoyed this. A precis of that increasingly long-drawn debate. t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 3:39:47 PM # 1.0.0.1119
'We shall fight them on the beaches, we shall fight them in the streets.' The old Winston speeches, the content of having to fight someone else in war, was horrific, but the speeches themselves were poetic. Oh, and they didn't rhyme. ;) I have this argument all the time, even though i like rhyme. Just get the message across in the best way; Rhyme or no rhyme. Enjoyed immensely. Regards Craig.