Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop

Let's write a short thoughtpoemo about the lunacious ways of the world's curriculum vitae...

I can thoroughly recommend the book 'The Ode Less Travelled' by Stephen Fry, which you can easily order through libraries. This would be a good place to put the exercises you have done and where others can add theirs too. I will start in about a week or so if any are interested.

this is an onamatapia(sp?) that I wrote almost 2 years ago.

Midnight Storm

Pitter patter, pitter patter, hear the rain pour
boom, crash, boom, hear the thunder roar
flash! see the lightning shock the door

Tick tock, tick tock, the clock strikes midnight
Creek, creek, opens the door and on comes the light
It's your mother saying it's alright

'Ooo, ooo, ooo, ' she sings you to sleep
In a dream you are drawn in deep
And now you fast asleep

Drip drop, drip drop, the storm has moved on
You wake up with a stretch and a yawn
Out comes the sun and now it's dawn

OBSESSIONS

I walk the path of notice,
in which looking for meaning.
walls all around me,
have trapped me since the beginning.

And when I realize the glinting eyes,
my soul sobs and oceans arise.

Dear Jennifer,
I hope you never leave me
I hope you take my hand
and walk with me freely
in this god forsaken land
Because if i ever need help
somewhere along the way
i know you'll be beside me
walking along the bay
Im not sure what id do
if i didnt have you
I'm sure I would be lost
somewhere in the frost
of the cold frozen desert
we call life

Braedon Reese

Futility

I scream to the ocean
of my pain and emotion
The waves just crash against the shore
No one answers me anymore

I talk to the wind the wind does not hear
The trees bend and shake and it is crystal clear
All my words simply disappear

I cry to the mountain
my tears a fountain
The mountain of solid dirt and stone
Leaves me to my fate
to be alone

I pray to the almighty
Though it seems flighty
I wait to hear
With a twinge of fear
And I wait to hear
Wait to hear
To hear
Hear

JPM 4/27/2007


A soldier died

In a far away place a solider died
Lay gently upon his grave a sweet bouquet
And somewhere a mother cried

A child grieves for the father that has been denied
Longing for all that has been taken away
In a far away place a solider died

War, a horror that can never be dignified
yet we march of to war again today
And somewhere a mother cried

A cold stone palace where the heroes reside
Where too many have been invited to stay
In a far away place a solider died

All that is left when worlds collide
Is sadness and sorrow and dismay
And somewhere a mother cried

I say to you my brother your memory will not be cast aside
All that you fought for will never be cast astray
In a far away place a solider died
And somewhere a mother cried
JPM 9/6/07

For me music and poetry are both like twin sisters. If you mix music to poetry a beautiful child called 'song' will take birth. I like music as good as poetry. These are means of relaxation and creation. Thanks for the nice discussion forum. I enjoyed here alot.
__________________
Beth W.
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Rain is Falling

Rain, rain, its always raining,
Rain, rain, I end up saying,
Rain, rain, please go away now,
Rain, rain, just leave right now,
Rain, rain, don’t know how,
I don’t care how,
To make my rainy day just go away…

So I stand,
in the pouring rain,
So I can,
feel the growing pain,
Of having rain,
coming down like the Armageddon flame.

I can see raindrops playing their game,
Even though they look the same,
I know that there is more to rain……

~Hey guys what do you think about this poem? ?

Crappy Poem

a group of words that somewhat relate
do not a piece of poetry make
bereft of content, flow or style
they’re just another steaming pile

and even if the rhyme is true
doesn’t mean applause is due
when imagery and metaphor
cannot be accounted for

yet, here lies a set of lines
wasting all its readers’ time
sure, as fluff, it’s kind of fun
but there’s no art before it’s done

and I suspect that some would say
that structure-wise, it seems okay
the sing-song meter is well designed
and the craft is true in all its parts

but how this little ditty fails
is in the way that it appeals
to the aesthetic of the mind
yet inspires nothing in the heart

-Jack Lovelle

pls check out my poems. though i've never really written a poem for the sole purpose of rhyming