Rhyme Blues Poem by Oduro Bright Amoh

From sweet to nonsense is how my poetry rises
Inch by inch it then falls into expected surprises
Filled with many an inane rhyme which suffices
Enough to turn speech into an ominous crisis

Every metre my poem stretches
More vanity sweeps into its sketches.
The little sweetness my rhyme fetches
Many an error on its lines perches.

Counter to what poetry teaches
I jam up my rhyme till it reaches
A height where it breaches
The very rules grammar preaches.

Vanity is what my rhyme endorses
Hailing futility’s forces
Speaking much yet nothing deserving applauses.
Rolling stones, of course, do not gather mosses

I even venture to describe kisses
When my own love life is no hit and all misses.
Girls continue to shower me with hisses.
Yet I venture to describe kisses.

I even venture to write about flowers
Which have been blessed with dewy showers
When so lost is my descriptive powers
That my poetry bitters and cowers

I even venture when in one of my poetic trances
To try to describe a pretty girl as she dances
And throws herself into sprightly prances
Just as any boy would wish to when upon such a scene he chances

Yet when I begin writing my poetic verses
The yearn to rhyme makes room for guesses
What should be lilies is made to look like cresses
Then mere senselessness is what the poem now stresses

Slowly disappointment like the sudden death of daisies
Which was filling with joy that eye that gazes
Sets in and the erstwhile eager pen lazes
Till no more can I tell of my poem with praises

I shall quit and endeavor other places
Be it Biology, Mathematics or The Study of Races
There, maybe, life will afford me enough graces
To enjoy the bliss of its other phases