The Poetry Competition

I read the contest rules again,                                                                                                           They made it all seem very plain.                                                                                                   ‘Write a poem with a rhyme                                                                                                               At the end of every line’.

I knew that I would then recite                                                                                                         My poem on the contest night.                                                                                                           Then all would hear that every line                                                                                                   Ended with a perfect rhyme.

It looked so good, I felt so proud                                                                                                       To stand and read my work aloud.                                                                                                   But when I spoke I quickly found                                                                                                     The endings had a different sound.

My poem:                                                                                                                                                           That night the stormy wind was rough                                                                                 It rent the air, and tore right through                                                                                   Every tree and every bough.                                                                                                       The branches then were stripped, although                                                                        The leaves clung on and cried ‘enough’                                                                                  But fell to ground into a trough.

I knew I would not win the prize                                                                                                       My poem was only for the eyes                                                                                                         The rhymes I wrote were not, I fear                                                                                                 Rhymes at all to the listeners ear.

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One thought on “The Poetry Competition

  1. Rhyme, prose, sonnet… if the words come from the heart and the poem reads like a literary song composed by an orchestra of feelings and emotion, then you have a winner, reguardless of any contest (~_~) then again, what I always say, you can’t hit a home-run unless you step up to the plate and swing the bat! You never know what the other guys batting average is!

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