Lately I have been pulling my hair,
To come up with a new fable,
My sleepless mind has legs on chair,
And ‘rhyme of gut’ on table.
I think about the thoughts I had,
Narcissism, I lack, I’m glad,
Hypocrisy with ironic stain,
I’m obsessive about the first person.
I take a decision to stop it now,
Trying to make an unbreakable vow,
With whom to make? I find no one,
So I make with myself and “Boy, it’s fun!”
My friends tell they sleep and have nice dreams,
Of plastic toys and shower of creams,
I’m sure they’ve been browsing too much net,
Not wet by sweating, but sweating to wet.
Innuendos were in those lines,
But now I will change the scheme of rhyme,
Randomly, I’ll say beer and wines,
aabb to abab is my simplest crime.
In fact, the poem had started with that very scheme,
I’ll continue to talk about my friend’s dream,
Just kiddin’! But observe, I made another switch,
But this one was just a poetic glitch.
Now I’ll explain to you a few parts of speech,
The last four lines, all rhyme with each,
It was funny because it was a pun,
And the last line’s funny for it sounds fun.
When you represent a big stuff by its part,
(Insulting with fun is called satire,
Messing up rhyme schemes is the latest art,)
Synecdoche is that, like a truck by tyre!
All are aspiring an alliteration,
To pull off one in a rhyme requires record run,
Of combing words that starts with the same letter,
A witty metaphor though, sounds so much better.
The popular one is ‘a curtain of night’,
A simile, now is not out of sight,
As quiet as mouse or deep as crater,
But deep as the ocean sounds so much better.
The last phrase has been repeated twice,
For this one is another poetic device,
Calling it repetition,could bring you pain,
Learn it now, this is indeed a refrain!
An oxymoron is a peaceful war,
The last two syllables say what you are,
Every line here is a sarcastic pun,
Is plain old lie and exaggeration.
Hyperbole is an alternate word,
To laugh till death and call me a retard,
Tautology is easy, you can learn it well,
‘Hyperbolic exaggeration’ is an example!
Onomatopoeia is ‘boom’ ‘cling’ ‘bang’,
‘Ting’ ‘tong’ ‘ding’ ‘dong’ ‘hush’ ‘bing’ ‘clang’,
Drowsy lanes lead to the market,
Strangely it is a transferred epithet.
My legs, I observe, are still on chair,
But the ‘rhyme of gut’ is not on table,
My hands are now busy pulling the the air,
I just wrote a poem, who needs a fable?
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