Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop


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  • Stephen Stirk (5/9/2009 4:10:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    Confession - The Last Time I Had A Goose

    During dreams, I’m flying high
    Just like a birdie in the sky
    I fly behind him up above
    His orange beak says “Alright Love”? (he was from Liverpool)

    “Yes” I say “this is my first
    And for adventure I do thirst
    A dream’s the reason I can fly”
    A surreal sight as we fly by

    “I’m a man and you’re a goose
    All my dreams have been set loose
    To fly is all I ever crave”
    The goose replied “My name is Dave”

    “Hi Dave” I said with fond reply
    “Are you the reason I can fly”
    “God no”! he said indignantly
    “It’s bugger all to do with me”

    “I just turned, and you were there
    It’s not as if I really care
    One thing I treasure in the sky
    Is safety from what cannot fly”

    So Dave and I, in fullest flight
    Flew amidst the blue and white
    And secretly I took a gun
    To shoot the goose for lunch and fun

    The feathers fluttered everywhere
    But I stayed firmly in the air
    And caught him by his two webbed feet
    The fowl act made my dream complete

    As down to earth I glided back
    With Goosy gander in a sack
    His murder I could not resist
    Signed …………Psycho Ornithologist

    Replies for this message:
    • Chuck Audette (5/15/2009 2:16:00 PM) Post reply

      you fondle your pillow with a frown say that you are feeling down but if Freud could hear your dream, a-yup he would say you're quacking up!

    • I am Noelle (5/12/2009 9:56:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      I think it's wonderful....great ryhming

  • Bullion Grey (4/29/2009 10:07:00 PM) Post reply

    Well it maybe that your artist inside is heading in another direction than rhyming (sp?) You might try a few days with only writing about key words and ideas that you have fascination with. If one was interested in lets say cats, they might write, without attempting rhymes, things about and concerning cats. The food a cat loves, My cat the lazy luxury, or other things to do with cats. It is possible to draw from any dictionary several words randomly and then set to create a short cohesive writing that uses all the random words chosen.
    Poems you see, are to a greater degree, ideas about living and life.
    Rhymes might be, just a tool to see, if you can show a little bit of a slice!
    But writing is probably as someone said long ago just a virus we humanoids caught that drifted from outer space and infected all of us.
    Also a Thesaurus can be used in the same way as the dictionary mentioned above.
    The thought I think is most important is not if it has a ryhme, but is it true, authentic and something from ones heart. Is it a risk one takes to forget about all but just the soul's speaking out through pen. I hope this helps, Snow.
    BG

  • Snow White (4/29/2009 4:14:00 PM) Post reply

    Hi. I'm Snow. I was wondering if someone could tell me how the work rhymes into there poetry? I've always been able to put words together in a way that sounds good, but I never had rhyming come naturally to me. I don't know why but I think it hinders my writing. If some people could send me a message I'd be greatful.

  • Bullion Grey (4/27/2009 12:20:00 AM) Post reply

    'Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can some how become great.'
    -Mark Twain

  • OuSs@Ma Samouna (4/17/2009 5:55:00 AM) Post reply

    Dear poet
    can you take few minutes
    of your expensive time
    to read my new poem 'A friend'
    comment it.

    Thanks a lot in advance.

  • OuSs@Ma Samouna (4/16/2009 3:06:00 PM) Post reply

    A friend


    A friend
    is someone who
    F inds you in a
    R ush of people,
    I nspires you to do something in life,
    knows & feels all your
    E motions and
    N ever leaves you till the
    D eath.

    A friend
    is someone that everyone needs

    A friend
    is that special one

    A friend
    is someone you tell everything

    A friend
    is someone you never lie to

    A friend
    is someone can be a boy or girl

    A friend
    is someone always with you

    A friend
    is someone who knows everything about
    you and simply still loves you

    A friend
    is someone who sees the pain in your eyes
    while everyone else still believes in the smile in your face

    A friend
    always offer everything he can

    A friend
    will help you honestly when we need

    A friend
    will never let you down

    But, hey you! ! !

    A friend
    is not just sharing a joke, a conversation, a cup
    of coffee or a funny story

    A friend
    is sharing an honest and true part of yourself

    A friend
    is someone that everyone needs



    In short,

    A friend is the Oxygen that we all breath


    So,
    what would you do if you didn't have

    A friend? ? ? !

  • OuSs@Ma Samouna (4/16/2009 3:05:00 PM) Post reply

    Kindly read my poems.
    Any critical comments shall be appreciated.
    Thanks.

  • Michael Harmon (4/16/2009 2:20:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    As I mentioned in another forum, I'm new to this site. However, I believe a better name for this forum would have been 'Fixed Form Workshop', and a better name for the other one (the Free Form workshop) would have been 'Organic Form Workshop'. Rhythm and rhyme are not solely restricted to 'traditional' forms.

    Replies for this message:
  • John W Fenn (4/8/2009 3:55:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    If a ginger kid bites you, what should you do?
    Don’t call for the doctor head for the zoo
    For there they’ll have the drug that’s right
    To kill the sting of the gingers bite
    Relieve the pain and ease the stress
    Of your impending gingerness
    As doctors do not have a cure
    This dread disease you must endure
    .
    Its symptoms are so painless that
    You may forget to wear your hat
    You’ll walk the streets without a care
    Till someone spots your ginger hair
    The ignominy and the shame
    Of your intensely ruddy mane
    May lead to thoughts of suicide
    Though this is something best not tried
    .
    But there’s a place I’ve heard it said
    Where those with ginger on their head
    Can live in peace without a care
    With other folk with ginger hair
    So if inflicted with this curse
    And God knows there is nothing worse
    Pack up and join the merry band
    Who live out there in Gingerland

    (C) John W Fenn 03-04-2009

    Replies for this message:
    • Stephen Stirk (4/12/2009 5:08:00 AM) Post reply

      This is a problem that should be tackled as sensitively and humanely as possible. Surely it can't be that difficult to have separate cafe's, cinema's and bus's etc. A friend of mine thought he had esc ... more

  • Stephen Stirk (4/1/2009 11:56:00 AM) Post reply

    Last week I joined friends reunited
    As with most of them I have lost touch
    So I waited, and got quite excited
    As the website had promised so much

    I waited a day for some feedback
    The first night was sleepless enough
    Still certain that I’d get a good stack
    And that sifting them through would be tough

    Then after a weekend of hoping
    I’d received nothing back by Email
    Well maybe my systems not coping
    I’ve heard that the server can fail

    A month has gone by Oh so quickly
    And things have gone round in my head
    It all leaves me feeling quite sickly
    But what if my old mates are dead

    The chances of this are too slender
    As I’d heard that they live all around
    But they haven’t got back to the sender
    And I’ve had my ear to the ground

    It’s six months since I left my data
    And I’ve sat the whole time at my screen
    I’m sure they’ll get back to me later
    “Come on me old mates, don’t be mean”

    A year’s quickly flown, and I’m still here
    Though I must say, I’m feeling some wrath
    I’m Stinking of ciggies and stale beer
    And 12 months away from my bath

    Five years have gone by and I’m stinking
    I’ve got used to these really long waits
    But the whole thing has set be to thinking
    Perhaps I don’t have any mates

    Ten years have flown by, and I don’t care
    I still think that something will come
    My bottom is wedged in the armchair
    And the cushion forms part of me bum

    But twenty years on and now yippee
    My first message, ‘I’ve got a hit’
    “I knew you as s**t face the hippy
    How are you, you sad little git”

    So I’ve finished with friends reunited
    And I’ve joined a new club on the net
    It’s called “I’ve no friends I’m delighted”
    And they guarantee mail you won’t get

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