Out Of Tune

I try hard to understand your poetry, you write in free verse,

I've to bend to rhyme and rhythm, my self-inflicted curse.

My composition has to fit in, in 14 lines to be precise,

You can meander, or stop short, be any shape or size.

 

 If I look all around me, what is rewarded or read,

You are playing with the form, rhyme and rhythm be dead.

You juxtapose vivid images, in metaphors mystery bake,

To satiate the modern thirst, traditions and meter break.  

 

By making my poems resonate, I'm committing a crime,

How can a nursery rhyme structure, carry a message sublime?

If we needed a rhyming poem, we would ask ChatGPT,

Your poems reek of the old era, what a shame, what a pity.

 

I've never really paid heed, to what dominates the Mehfil,

I write to touch you my readers, not to win prizes or coffers fill.