A Proclivity to Rhyme
(All the Time)
You may guess there are drawbacks to writing as I do,
for lately, I must find a rhyme for everything I view.
This matching up of words that rhyme has come to be compulsion.
A harmless one, but still one sometimes met with some revulsion.
When making jokes or making bread or making whoop-de-do,
I always think of words that rhyme and then I voice a few.
So when a lover bites my neck and with my hair is toying,
and the only word that I can find to rhyme is “cloying;”
it certainly gets in the way of my successful “boying!”
Or when a good friend feeds me and under-cooks the meat,
as I run through my retinue to find a rhyme that’s neat;
and she happens to hear me just as I curse the red,
wishing she had opted for a well-done steak instead,
my sincere protestations do not seem to be accepted.
If only that one choice of rhymes had not been intercepted,
perhaps she would still ask me to her luncheons and her dinners,
Instead, I’ve wound up on her list of culinary sinners!
As much as I like rhyming, sometimes it is a curse,
for what is my best habit may also be my worse.
If only long ago I’d learned how not to rhyme each word,
the last one in this poem would not need to be “absurd.”
Another very golden oldie that happens to fit the prompt perfectly. The prompt word today is proclivity.