It doesn't rhyme

[Fellsman]

The poet - Prout - of Tunbridge Wells
A chap of decent station
Just couldn't get his verse to rhyme -
A most sad aberration.

His blank verse and his metred foot
Won untold approbation
His anapaests and villanelles
Were models of creation.

Prout's spondee's and his scansion were
Superb, it's fair to say
Yet his despair just grew and grew
Most every single day.

He racked his brains both night and day
And almost turned to crime -
No matter what two words he used
He couldn't make them rhyme.

Then finally, the penny dropped
For matters textuary
Prout went out and bought himself
A rhyming dictionary!

[hillwalker]

Very witty as usual.

Forgive me for hi-jacking your post but I couldn't resist adding something I scribbled for a local writers' group during the summer (eye-rhyme apparently):

PHOBIAS

Phobias come in many guises,
most leave a mark like hidden bruises:

the fear of open space, or height,
that cursed sum of five plus eight,

the fear of snakes, of fire and flood
could put you in a dismal mood

or meningitis, drink and food
enough to chill somebody’s blood.

Anxiety brought on by wind
can play cruel tricks on someone’s mind

and drive them to the doctor’s couch.
The terror of the spider’s touch

and beards as worn by Brian Blessed
alarm more than you might have guessed.

My phobia’s hardly worth your time –
the knees go weak when words won’t rhyme…

Best wishes

H

[Delta40]

I liked the wit and metre of your poem Fellsmen and Hill, I'd never heard of eye rhyme until now - another test your brain experience...