A perfect word, a flawless rhyme,
I tweak, revise, and spend my time.
Each sentence placed with utmost care,
Will readers see the genius there?
Or deem it not worth half a dime?
In vain, I chase the grand sublime,
Each draft destroyed, reforged each time,
Still readers pass without a careā
A perfect word.
A critic scoffs, “It’s past its prime,”
Another hails it as “divine!”
Their whims decide what’s praised, what’s spareā
It’s art! It’s trash! It’s simply air!
Still, onward writes this heart of mineā
A perfect word.
Author’s notes:
This poem is a Rondeau. It is a fixed form of poetry with three stanzas often used in light or witty poems. A word or words from the first part of the first line are used as a refrain ending the second and third stanzas.
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