There\'s nothing wrong in writing Rhyme;
I seem to do it all the time.
Now if Iambic Pentameter your chosen thing;
Then trip along the Rhythm\'s Ring.
If Constricted Blank a desired fate;
Then feel the Cloth of Jacket Straight.
If Free Verse is the Horse you Ride;
No Fence or Hill you\'ll need abide.
To Sculp away in Concrete form;
A Style Unique the Eyes adorn.
With simple Ode by Mellow Air;
You Raise the one to which you care.
A Sonnet glows with fervent fire;
Where Embers Warm the Hearts desire.
The Acrostic guides the Eye along;
Where Peeks the Idol of the Song.
With Haiku take the Genie\'s lot;
And force him back through Bottle Top.
So Whatever Style you lay your Soul;
It\'s defley Spun when all is Told.