Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop
(2/3/2010 6:02:00 AM)
This poem was written based on a true story of tragedy that happened in our city. Comments appreciated.
'DEATH COMES TO ANY AGE'
There is one story that makes me shudder
And so with care I live each day
It is about a mother and a daughter
Who went to a mall for her birthday.
The mother promised the eight year old
For a cellphone as her requested gift,
Excited to call her Dad she was told-
As they crossed a street, she ran so swift.
The daughter had crossed ahead and saw
That her mother was left at the other side
And so like a child she ran back although
The lights had changed for the street so wide.
The lights turned to green and it was a 'go'
As all vehicles started to go running
Cars and trucks speeding traffic flow
Not seeing the small child who was crossing.
The truck driver saw but it was too late
The brakes just would not have time to hold
The little girl met her untimely fate
As the truck ran over that eight-year-old.
The hysterical mother went into shock
Seeing her child's brains on the pavement
In grief she almost had a heart attack
Screamed in tears her anguished lament.
The lesson here that Death teaches us all
One may be eighty or be eight-year-old
But when He chooses to give us a call
With Him, there's no young and there's no old.
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
(2/2/2010 2:58:00 AM)
Another poem with rhyme, and a lot of mythical personifications, theme of lost love and supposed 'freedom'. Objective comments appreciated.
Will Bacchus wine drown me at last
In drunken stupor lie?
Freed from the memories of the past,
In deepest slumber sigh?
To soar in dreams Orion's mantle
Ride Hermes' wings in fantasy
To heights and stars all mine to handle
Here lies my bed, this galaxy.
Will Eros then in mercy take
His cruel arrow from my heart?
From Aphrodite's list forsake
My name, from love do I depart!
Escape to blissful freedom here
In bright Aurora sun
The dawn shall wipe away the tear
Of night, for new day has began.
Like Echo just set free, enjoy
Emptied of Narcissus' face -
With her these dancesteps will employ
Freedom from my sorrowed days.
Will Galatea breathe at last,
And grant Pygmalion's wish?
But Love when freed escapes too fast
The heart remains, with none to cherish.
Copyright 2009 Cynthia Buhain Baello
Posted at several poetry sites and SEO monitors submissions to said sites.
(2/2/2010 2:47:00 AM)
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My poem 'Love's Echo' was written with rhyme and metre, and the theme of lost love lingers through the lines. Comments are appreciated.
Your voice in echo haunting me
Whisper words that resonate,
They call in dreams persistently
And speak of Love that Truth negates.
For you were gone before the morn
You stole the sunshine from my days,
Crushed my heart and left it worn
Where tears tormented all my ways..
If Sleep would come without a dream
Oh such comforting release!
The gentle Silence sings it seems
Of songs that drown your voice with ease.
Your echoed Love, please speak no more
Accord me rest and new tomorrows!
Mute that voice just like before
When my heart knew of no great sorrows.
Posted at other sites since August,2009 Copyright Cynthia Buhain BaelloReplies for this message:
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(1/28/2010 9:10:00 PM)
If you have time, could y'all read and comment on my new poem 'The Room'? It's a horror poem that uses alot of rhyme. Thanks!
(1/26/2010 10:04:00 PM)
'This one's for the lovers.'
'This one's for the lovers...'
The DJ rattled on,
But I liked the song a lot
Though I was dancing all alone.
And my heartbeat tried to warn me
While my feet battered the floor,
But the song's lyrics perfumed me
As you sauntered through the door...
I learned I should have battled
Against the DJ's catchy tune
Because he led me to fresh sadness
When the music stopped too soon.
Kyle S. Hamp
(1/24/2010 9:19:00 PM)
Dear fellow poets, if you have some time spare could you please check out my new poem 'A Broken Cookie' i will of course return the favour, any comments would be nice and constructive criticism is also welcome, thank you for reading this and i hope to read your work too, thanks for your time
(1/24/2010 1:18:00 PM)
'An Offbeat Annotation'
All the bleach that ever was couldn't wash it:
My first time.
In a thirty dollar room full of sin and stains
We chose to entertwine.
Waves of pot and uncertainty drenched my heart
And washed my mind.
We tossed around in cigarette butts
And on tart lust we dined.
Blood seeped through the fabric
Of the lumpy bed we rocked.
My lover smelled of sweat and gin.
Regret I stored in stock,
But I'd dreamt that it would be that way:
Fast and rough and hurried.
I only wish that I'd had a mind to run
As fast as my first scurried:
Left me numb and stupefied
With an offbeat annotation
Of drugs and hugs and last of love.
I needed more than a condom's protection.
Kyle S. Hamp
(1/19/2010 12:48:00 AM)
This has no beginning; the end, I can’t foresee,
so instead I bear the bruises, scars un-healing.
She says 'Never again, I’m sorry'
queasy with this unsettled feeling.
And I bear the bruises, scars un-healing
inflicted by my child’s hands;
I’m queasy with this unsettled feeling:
a love that rage commands,
inflicted by my child’s hands.
Continue to hold hope for the solace it can give,
but in a love that rage commands,
there is no room to live.
So she says 'Never again, I’m sorry'
this has no beginning—the end, I can’t foresee.
I’ll continue to hold hope for the solace it can give,
knowing there is no room to live.
(1/4/2010 10:20:00 AM)
Knowledge and overstanding reigns supreme amongst the chosen few, close to zero but without a use like singing the blues, I choose to cruise head above water, passive enlightenment for me has the ultimate muse.
So as I spread my wings and bring trauma to your corner of the morgue, the demons are bored.
You’re lucky you even clawed your way back into the contest, a self-proclaimed artisan on his own little conquest.
Don’t test the dynamo status that has this loser sinking faster than the lost city of atlantis.
The romantic seeker of truth, knowledge divine etched in my youth, looking for harmony in my chosen soul group,
With the spoof of tarnatino, I have drive like robert de-niro cos I remain stern under pressure like the one who accepts nothing lesser.
Always to always and down to a zero I play devil’s advocate with words like al pacino,
and if I find you in the street playing emo I’ll have to fight your cause and administer kemo,
Oh lord unleash the terror in me and help me on my way to the next life and a whole new legacy,
It’s a felony the fact that Im living my life with pharmaceutical remedies that administer more pain and strife.
I write rhymes to exfoliate and expose the notion of the apocalyptic golden wake.
I’ll spin the void and like pink floyd my unique stanza will grow with extravaganza on this high road of illumination, my words manifest with procrastination.
(12/26/2009 9:46:00 AM)
I like to repeat the same line in all stanzas of a poem - please, see it used in this poem: http: //www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-only-want-to-be-myself/
Can you, please, comment on this technique? Who else has used it?