Way back many rhymes ago
I felt inclined by lyrical leanings
Having bought a decent dictionary
Researching words and meanings
I read a lot of well-known Bards
Was amazed at their impressions
Their depth of feeling had no ceiling
And such a way with their expressions
I would read each take to root out fake
Contriving not to be synthetic
Lacking eloquence and prominence
Not at all I thought poetic
Though I carried on with hopeful heart
My prose would always end up rhyming
Clever things I could not conjure up
To work with rhythm pace and timing
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