Your rhymes are too rhymey!
(He snarled in disgust.)
Take them outside
If write them you must.
Your meter’s too measured—
Style’s always the same.
Alliteration allures you
To play its dumb game.
You’re like all the others
Who think they are poets.
The soul is the thing—
But you do not know it!
You get hung up in structure,
So this poem will fail.
And if I had my druthers
I’d finish it in blank verse.
—jms
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