When men, women spend time plying wry inside rhyme,
That’s assonance.
Sly and spry might be rhymes, find long I’s, like this line;
That’s assonance.
Think “big ring” or “linguistic fling,” singing “ring-a-ding,”
Like thin Sinatra fellow.
Straightaway—racers make their play; gracious? nay, not they;
Well, these hellions ain’t mellow.

Start departing for school; farts embarking—argh! stool!!
That’s “ass”onance.
Dance and prance down the street, glance askance—ants on feet:
Fugging bugs!
Steamed, you’re mean and you beat these creatures; “Eek!” you shriek. . .
“Eek,” that’s a nonce.
Silly me, filling the bill with ill poesy.
Crass assonance.