The point, a poem, does it rhyme?
Not words in parallel of sound -
but chimes, rings out experience
we know the poet shared as well?
A rhythmic pulse can help it speak,
as regular as heart and breathe,
unless one needs a sigh or gasp,
and that built into metre, feet;
but other, wise, don’t cause its stretch,
enforce word match, irrational?
Perhaps the best is silent scheme,
unnoticed as it’s natural,
just as our bodies night and day?
Have you read words, McGonagall -
that Topaz, jewel of the Scots,
poetic hypochondriac?
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