Return to the Rhyme

Every child is drawn to a rhyme
The rhythm, the words, the sound
The mind pictures colorfully crafted
The meanings complete and round

Then somehow poetry morphs
Into something convoluted and hard
And children drop their books
To go out and play in the yard

The elite just quiver and shake
Enwrapped in emotional bliss
At each new odd meter and line
Or syllables with exotic twist

But to me all that twisting gymnastics
Is just lazy wordplay unleashed
And “poetry” would have more meaning
Back on the rhythmic foundation beneath

© Copyright 2018, Marty Vandermolen, All Rights Reserved