In the same vein as your *Orange*, duellingbouzoukis, here is something written by John Maguire:

I'm writing a poem without any rhymes
But I've had to redo it just dozens of goes
Imagine my anger, my terrible rage
As the rhymes just keep jumping right onto the sheet
No sooner is one line put into its place
Than the next comes along, stares me right in the eye
Saying "Now that you've finished that bit of the text
You've got to have me; can't you see that I'm here ?"
I try for impossible words like cucumber
But they overhear and awake from their snoozing
I reach out for artichoke, porridge and sago
But I find the gyrations just give me arthritis.

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- jeanie