How would life change if everyone had to speak in rhyme all the time?

And yes…I actually realize,
(And please don’t over analyze), That both the words “twine” and “time”
Really do not actually rhyme.

If speaking requires prose to rhyme,
I’d keep my observations said in mime

Oh inconceivable!
Tis vexing to weave words!
Most would be unable!
Gabs shall lead to drawing swords!

Redacted.

It was witty but too crude.
I prefer not to be rude.

@AstroChuck!
What the fuck?! It’s been so long.
If we could only rhyme,
it’d only be a matter of time
before someone tells me I’m doing it wrong.

Sociologically, after a period of adjustment, it wouldn’t change at all. It would be normal.

And then in a generation or two, someone would “invent” prose again.

I do think that scientific papers and political speeches (and for that matter, sports broadcasting) would be made more difficult.

I’d talk less and smile more.

It is sublime to rhyme all the time.

t-would take more time
To speak a thought
Fewer low grime
Words would be wrought.

Great to see your smiling face.
I missed you mug at this place.

Holy fuck that would suck!

I have worked so hard
to satisfy your request,
but Shiki I’m not.

I don’‘t know

If I could make it go

I’d put it a box if could

And make it out of wood.

@AstroChuck :

Sex with a kid who’s still only six?
It could be appealing
But I have to say, “Nix!”

It wouldn’t be easy,
I’d do my best.
It might be cheesy,
Then I’d give it a rest.

Writing a poem
About Kristi Noem,
Politics and opinions,
and Trump’s minions.

I might say less,
And just sit there,
I’d try to look my best,
More makeup and hair,

The thoughts would be in my head,
It would be tough,
I’d spend more time in bed,
I’d not be so buff.

Rhyme and prose,
would mean more thought,
As everyone knows,
would it be for naught?

@jca2 Terrific!

@janbb Thanks! I used to write poems when I was a kid.

If I could
I really would
But if I can’t
I really shan’t

Hey, @AstroChuck! You’re back—what luck!

I think we would change the pronunciation of a lot of words. I also think we would live in a state of unremitting annoyance, possibly a relief from the state of annoyance we live in now.

It’s hard enough,
Describing stuff
In words of prose
When anything goes.

But to make it rhyme
All of the time
I’d give up with orange
And instead say red.

To Astrochuck on his Return

It’s nice to see your smiling face,
You’ve been away so long it hurt
But we have standards in this place
How come you never changed that shirt?

@flutherother
Hey! Waddya mean?
It’s color now, old bean.

@AstroChuck Don’t be snide. Did you wash it in Tide?

@flutherother

“Oh wud that God the giftie gie us,
To see ourselves as others see us”
Especially when their shirts are old,
and the colors in them nae so bold!

@janbb
…Burma-Shave

I was shooting for a bit more intellectual but okey-dokey.

@janbb, are you calling AC a louse??

Nice turn on the lines, anyway.

P.S. “O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us…”

The missile knows where it is, you see,
By knowing where it ought to be.
It tracks where it is and where it’s not,
Subtracting one from the other on the spot.

By finding the difference, a deviation it finds,
Corrective commands are issued in kind.
To steer the missile from here to there,
From a place it isn’t, to one that’s fair.

When it gets to a spot where it wasn’t before,
It realizes it isn’t there anymore.
The position it was, it now can’t be,
For now it’s somewhere else, you see.

If the place it’s in isn’t where it wasn’t,
It figures out the variation present.
The guidance system corrects the drift,
To align the path and give it a lift.

Though the missile’s unsure where it might be,
It knows where it isn’t, quite clearly.
By calculating both error and variation,
It adjusts its path with great elation.

Thus, the missile stays on its flight,
Correcting its course both day and night.
Through subtracting, adding, and knowing its place,
It stays on target, keeping pace.