That “passion’s not sole soul of flairs!”
Rant the swollen-headed connoisseurs
Touts of ‘fine art’, its doctrinaires!
Dreaded dogma-wielding saboteurs!

“Yours ain’t the ones, we deem rhymes
‘Doggerels’ the least, the most, we decree
What worth is theirs, beyond our dimes?
What’s yours, beyond a passing fancy?”

“A vain pursuit!  A sin I rear, on my soul
What befell me, to have scribbled thru?
Art’s felony, a sore heart’s, sublime toll!
Shall that poesy die, be born anew…?

…A blessed bromide, a ‘rhyme’ baptized
A pleasing flirt, beyond whims, bared
Impotent grows, new poetic pride
As world revels, a rhyme repaired!

© 2016 Vikas Chandra