Pedantically Poetical

 

I'm pedantic and picky

Perfectionist-icky

About all the metre and rhyming.


I really can't help it

I can't,  I''m part-phobic.

I just have to get right the timing.


With one syllable out of place

I'd just have to go hide my face.


Oh NO!

You see what I just did?

The metre adjusted!

I'll have to rehearse

Or switch to blank verse.

But 

Byron and Shelley

Would think this was smelly

And poor.

No doubt they would show me

The door.


Accept I'm obsessive

I can't be progressive

I'll always be trying

Until I am crying,

For that perfect rhythm

Even if it's hidden...

Oh no, what a duff rhyme.


If it takes a lifetime

I'll get it right

For that is my plight....

The End

19 comments about this poem Feed