When I was a young girl I learned that a poem was something that rhymed. Cat in the Hat. When I got older poems became un-rhymed and seemingly loose, but with a whole lot of rules attached to them. Rhyming was almost sneered at, and so became a dying art, unless you were Doctor Seuss or Sheil Silverstein. I have gone to readings and participated in poetry festivals as the token musician invited, and have watched poets bleed their life stories; thoughts, feeling, indignities, avoiding at all cost, the dreaded rhyme… Well, I am hereby confessing that I LOVE THE RHYME. I am an expert at it. I break all the rules of meter and run with the flow, and just when you think it is not going to happen, ah…, there it is! The satisfying feel of the rhyme. Where there is rhyme there is music. There is song and rhythm and complexity. It takes skill to create the rhythm of the rhyme. It is an art that deserves respect and acknowledgment. Maybe that will be my next crusade… Save the world…Save the Rhyme…
Rhythm and Rhyme…
2010 -
02.11