I know I know
I know it’s not a crime
Especially in poetry where there are no rules
No borders no constraints
Do what you want without complaints
But isn’t life better with a little music in it?
Then why strip your verses of its jewels?
Why take off the ring from its fingers
And the tiara from its head?
I know it’s not easy
But nothing good in life ever is
It takes courage to carve David out of a stone
It takes efforts to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel
It takes a certain degree of madness to ride with Death in his carriage
All good things take time and something more
Poetry’s a lot better with a little rhyme for sure

I know I know
I know it’s tough to align with a meter
I’ve read all I can but ain’t getting better
The beats, the pattern, the syllables with stress
Leave my poor head in a spaghetti mess
So often the rhymes look forced
And out of place
Like you’ve switched the underground
With outer space
In this day and age
When instapoets are the rage
Who has the drive to sit down and deliver
A rhyme scheme that will endure forever?
Yet I plead my case and hope you listen
Don’t write poems if the rhymes are missin’

I know I know
Contemporary poets are doing contemporary poems
Rhyme’s out of fashion
That’s no illusion
Rhymes have been confined
To humour and nursery kids
A limerick here and there
A punchline and a trick
I would have said that even that is enough
But somehow my guts find it tough
To accept that rhymes have lost their charm
Come on man I mean no harm but
Why why why?
Surely we aren’t going to let them die
Or let them rot in old libraries
That no one ever steps foot in
Let’s resuscitate them while we can
Bring those godforsaken rhymes back to life again

I know I know
I still rate A Hard Rain…
Ahead of other Dylan songs
And I also know free verse’s a thing
But I also know that there is nothing
That compares to Poe’s masterpiece
About the black bird that perched above his chamber door
Forevermore
Take that out and
This world becomes a poorer place
So here I again implore you
Like Don did with his Pie
To not let the good ol’ die
Work those grey cells in your brain
And come out with some rhymes
That make me wanna dance in the rain

I know I know
I am no authority
To be spitting out wisdom
On poetry
But I ain’t speaking as a guru
I am talking as a plain reader
A devourer, an enjoy-er
Of verses and songs
I know I’ve quite often been wrong
In life and love and everything else
But I ain’t mistaken about this
There’s a reason pop is called what it is
There’s a reason rap has the hits
Because my god it just kicks
It makes the heart go pumping-thumping
Makes your soul go wheezing-freezing
Makes you happy, makes you sad
Brings out all the emotions
You never thought you had
So my dear
Give me your ear
Remember this time after time
Write your verses rhyme after rhyme