A poem that’s like a rhyme that’s like a verse with meter fairly true.
My heart is like a shredded cabbage
sautéed in a honey glaze.
My words are like a o’er-used adage lost in a semantic maze.
My face is like a vacant painting where no visitors may stay.
My dream is like an endless waiting in an endless boring day.
That dog is like a Russian dancer
frolicking in some ballet.
Its steps are like a tapped-out answer telegraphing what to say.
Its bark is like a cannon’s fire belching out a gruesome smoke.
The stage is like a smelly mire so deep a carburettor’d choke.
This poem is like a rhyme that’s like
a verse with meter fairly true…
Except were it a rhyme thus like it would be like it through and through.
From that exception it is not like what it is like, as you see…
But it’s still a poem that I like and the price is right (it’s free).