They don’t want poems to rhyme these days  
Ruling poetic narrative profounder.  
But words which rhyme have their ways  
To plunge to an inside that’s far yonder.  

There are depths where sense can make a sense  
Not of logic but of beat and caress—  
Where words do more than just mean stuff:  
Where they dance, and sing, and undress.  

So a sonnet’s a great middle way  
To have your cake and eat it.  
Sonnet structure holds its sway  
But violating it a bit can cheat it.  

Poetic words fill the chest, not the mind.  
Love jumps to leave reason behind.