As I write this
I peel an orange
Now in poetry
Every Tom, **** and Harry knows
You cannot rhyme with this citrus delight
Thus I find myself lacking words
And how to arrange them
To rhyme with orange
So in such cases of crisis
I turn to imagination
Let my thoughts genuflect
At the possibilities of rhyme and verse
Weighing beauty and technicality
I realize I can be deranged enough
To rhyme anything with orange
Unless you want sporangium
But what is romantic about spores and oranges
If you want to be critical
We should talk of robust flowers and The Doors
Rhyme should be written off the hinges
Thought should be expressed free like a horse cart
And romantic as a moonlight caravan
Probably as well watered as a flower ***
Or sometimes withering away like the fire of desire