Alliteration and sound

Alliteration and sound

A Poem by Maxwell Ryder

Written Feb. 25, 2013

Through consonants and vowels I trowel, looking for sounds that wow or astound. My mind is stuck in a verbal mound of alliteration and sound. I am clogged, doused in myself. It’s a proverbial hell breaking out of this poetic shell. All I think about is clout being in clots; or dialectical bouts without cuts; or just how off-putting a pout is, though it’s just rounded lips lined in ruts. I worry about going nuts with my nouns, or having gout in my gut, or just touting myself as tough without my bud, old King Tut. After all, flouting a flop is awful enough without a gun to cop. I’m trying to be on an even keel without raising doubt, being killed, or even touched. Although my grousing has become engrossing arousal for some, it’s worn out, isn’t sound and resounds in rot. It’s a boring and boundless rant, coming from the loudest lout without a lot. After all, I’m just a grunt, sitting on my duff, gassing about chaffs, chafing over chuffs, and stuffing my rhetorical bag full of ifs, ands, or buts.

© 2018 Maxwell Ryder

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Added on February 25, 2018
Last Updated on February 25, 2018


Maxwell Ryder
Maxwell Ryder


Teacher, reader, news and poetry junkie more..