Ronnie couldn’t talk And be rhymless at all. He could barely walk, I'm pretty sure he'd fall, Unless he was rhyming. He said to me, “You see The thing is with me It all has to do with timing.
The cadence when I walk Become words I hear, The beat when someone talks Makes a poem in my ear, Then the rhyming begins And seems to make good sense. The words like magic appear Poetic possibilities immense.”
All of the time I knew him It seemed to be the truth He rhymed almost constantly From his very verbal youth. He was like a Hallmark card Sometimes saying pithy things That fit the moment exactly And had that ***** ring.
But other times his utterances Were acerbic and very witty. When it came to sarcastic tilt He was the Mayor of Snark City. Or he could rhyme endearingly And paint pictures with his words Saying some of the nicest things That were ever put into words.
Yes, he was Rhyming Ronnie, A poem for any current thought. You couldn’t stump him even once. At least not that I ever caught. Ryan was amazing for sure And some found it rather vexing. But oh boy in the internet age It came in handy when texting!