Calling in the Cat
(Jocularity with rhyme for someone
who called free verse her Bête Noire)
That’s my old Bête Noire sulking on the wall,
disdainfully resisting my every call.
I’ve tried her with couplets, to no effect;
another type of rhyme I must select.
She’s turned up her nose at my free verse,
she considers it tasteless and perverse.
I’ll see if another rhyme scheme will work.
Oh, she has her claws out ready to strike;
antique inverted verse this cat doth irk,
and she’ll refuse a line that ends with like.
To a feeble sonnet’s where this is heading.
Perhaps on half-rhymes she’ll be feeding,
if I can tempt her in with one more line:
come on, silly Bête Noire, don’t be a pain.