The Rhyme of Qualm is …
Oh trust me l do so often wonder,
If l am at all able
To write at length without blunder,
Or would that be insurmountable?
Such a long word to use and to sit,
At the end of a line,
Don’t you think, to commit,
Or is it fine, just fine?
I am often or is it oft,
Pondering on the suchness,
When words are lost or is it tossed,
To one side for progress?
For poetry and verse,
It’s frighteningly bizarre,
… and makes me nervous…
and open to swear not prayer,
Yes swear, l assure you, l jest
Nay that you take this with any zest,
For l simply cannot…
Abide those who seemingly think,
…. That words are conjured from within,
Without so much as a blink,
And not realise the good fortune spin,
Of a healthy mind when at creative play!
Language considered Greek Mozambique…
Oh ho ho, that’ll be the day… l say!
The reality is mastered word smithery and chic!
You’ll not be the death,
Of this nonsense l assure you,
I have no qualms at all, nor lack of breath,
But before l die l will see it through!
© Rory Matier 2019