I thought this monkey looked sufficiently baffled to use for this poem. Photo courtesy: my husband, @ntarunkumar
There are some who won’t stand a rhyme
They denounce it as (literary) crime.
“What’s your kick with rhyme?,” you ask.
“It makes things contrived,” they say, candid, with no mask.
You argue, “Rhyme adds flavour
It shows the poet as clever
A rhyme can pack a punch
To give it up is a wrench
Rhyme serves as anchor
Against it, why entertain rancour?”
The antagonists retort, “The lines sound forced and so turn out silly
Rhyme waters the subject and leaves it pell-melly.”
And they go rigid all at once
Realising they have made a rhyme, they turn tense.
“Oh wait, Silly—Pell-melly. That sure is a rhyme neat!
You must admit, this sort of word play is hard to beat.”
“Oh sure,” you respond and away you go
Nettled and sour, you realise it’s all about ego
“When they churn out a rhyme, it sounds charming
But, coming from another, it sounds alarming?!
‘To rhyme or not to rhyme’ is everyone’s prerogative
And to be sure, a rhyme is no pejorative!”
Well, there the matter ends
You square your shoulders—and a rhyme it portends…