On occasion I’m compelled to write,
non-rhyming poetry; oh what a fight!
Every single verse is birthed in pain.
Solutions come but trouble remains.
The challenge rich, the reward thin.
Fantastic ideas often wreck the end.
It’s a mystery how poets write prose.
To hit the target you punch its nose.
While I might admire poetic verse,
I’ll reach for a rhyme. It’s my curse.