Some call me a closed-form elitist
And might ask of me to delete this
Though free-verse may be a purple rose
I will often say, “this could be prose”
.
Flowery words which at random break
Give me a feeling I just can’t shake
Stanzas that eschew a firm meter
Go with the Daughter of Demeter
.
On “lack of periods”, don’t be Harsh
My structure is clearer than a marsh
My words are bound precisely with twine
Showcased with breaks of stanza and line
.
All ascending alliterations
Dastardly driven derivations
Reinforce rapid repeating rhymes
That tell these things to temper their time
.
Free-verse cannot bring this form of art
Though those who write it may be quite smart
Pattern is what can be learned by heart
Closed-form shall always be set apart