(Note: I wrote this poem by looking up “rhymezone” on Rhymezone.com and copying all the resultant rhymes. A couple of the words are used incorrectly, which is sort of the point.)
It’s okay to use a rhyming dictionary,
But some poets are so addicted to Rhymezone,
It seems like a crime zone,
Across every time zone.
Worse than a dry calzone.
But you rhyme ecstatically, emphatically,
And oh so enthusiastically.
Maybe a bit erratically,
But always dramatically,
Even if not grammatically,
But certainly dogmatically.
And I would say fanatically.
It’s all about your narcissism,
Nothing but verbal tourism,
I don’t want a schism,
And I’m sorry for the criticism.
But I can’t see through your prism,
It’s like linguistic fascism.
It’s not as bad as plagiarism,
But it’s poesy fetishism.
A kind of literary nihilism.
How about some amelioration?
It just takes a bit of cognation.
You’ll be proud of your creation,
When you lose the rhyming fixation,
Try a blank flirtation,
I’m not trying to be imperious,
But get serious, mysterious,
It’s not so deleterious
To be just a bit ethereous.
I know audiences prefer the doggerel
And the strutting of a cockerel.
You may think I’m a dotterel,
But my poetic license is post-doctoral.
Sure, with so many words, you can always rhyme one.
But your first blank verse will be a milestone.
Cause you got no laurels to lie on.
Shames gonna hit you like a cyclone.
You’re just grist for my grindstone.
I give you a clue cause you can’t buy one.
And here’s some talent you can try on.
Don’t despair, I have a shoulder you can cry on.
You can keep your rhymes,
I’ll write my own.