Poems that rhyme and
are strategically timed
frustrate the hell out of me

I long for the wit
that would make me emit
on the page, writing clever and free

With words that make sense
when I try to commence
to describe the sky or sea

I hope to be blessed
with the poetical zest
to make my rhyming agree

Or the lyrical grace
to help me encase
the symptoms of human ennui

But I know in my heart
though I be smart,
that rhyming just isn’t for me

For* this* poem couldn’t be made
without the helpful aid
of a rhyming dictionary