Spend some time this month with a poem or two, reading them or writing them. And let me know if you find a word that rhymes with orange. Or purple. Or sofa.
A poem can come in many forms,
The writer, with his brain that storms
In elements of meter, rhyme and verse.
While some may be more skilled than I,
I take my pen, don’t question why,
I figure I can hardly do much worse.
Now, I’m no e.e. cummings,
and that Will Shakespeare’s really something,
I can’t compete with them, this much I know.
But if I just write my own lines
in free verse or in loose rhymes,
I don’t need to rival Edgar Allan Poe.
Among this wide variety,
some write for notoriety,
or publication, fame or love or cash.
I’ll share a quick confession
that it’d cure my word obsession,
if I could learn to rhyme like Ogden Nash.
I page through poets laureate
and I’m sometimes sorry that
my lack of comprehension calls a truce.
But a favorite still will always be
the style and sweet simplicity
of the ne’er to be compared to Dr. Seuss.
A poem can convey sentiment,
or sorrow, love through which you went,
the clichéd roses red and violets blue.
Some like flowers or candy better,
but I’d recommend a letter
with a short verse that can best say, “I love you.”
Now we have these thirty days,
so many poems, so many ways
to pay a glorious tribute to this month.
From Dickinson to Wilde to Frost,
in all their words we can get lost,
and celebrate the art of...
[note to self: find rhyming word for “month”
before writing next year’s poem.]
“I would live all my life in nonchalance and insouciance,
were it not for making a living, which is rather a nouciance.”