By Andrew Moravick
Poetry with no rhyme is like sex with no climax,
Yes it can be done but on your mind it will tax.
Rhyme they say is cheap, fickle, and out dated,
Why though are those poems today contemplated,
While modern terns of verse are just dozens for a dime,
And yet long lasting is literature with that ridiculous rhyme?
Modernism it’s called, poetry progressed past those previously penned,
Yet why not with Donne, Blake, or Byron can modernists contend?
The mind needs challenges, toils, tribulations, and tests,
Without these within the mind mediocrity manifests.
Rhyme with reason paired requires more thought in each line,
Through various vines of vocabulary a poet must pine.
Searching for words of worth, weight, and wonderful sound,
Pleasing the pen wielding poet when words are finally found.
Rhythm valued vastly above rhyme what a reckless reform.
Like wearing shirt without pants while wanting to keep warm.
Yes some unrhymed writings are beautiful and deep,
But can not rhymed wonders we also wish to keep?
Are we so vain to say we are absolutely above,
The poems of old all ages have shared in love?
Why not continue the old with the new?
Why value one way when both are true?
Why abandon rhyme in poetry without second thought,
When rhymes were the first part of poetry we were taught?
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