This critic told me I should write in rhyme
because the rigor of poetic form
insists that at the end of every line
a syllable should to “the scheme” conform.
The pedant said I should write three quatrains
that’s bunches of four lines to you and me
(a word game you can practice when it rains)
and the end rhymes must run a b a b.
The pratt went on to tell me that my feet
(where foot’s a bit of word with stress upon it)
should count to five in all lines on the sheet
and lo, behold, I then would have a sonnet.
I told him this all sounded quite perverse
and I will only ever write free verse.
