Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop
(12/31/2007 8:58:00 AM)
“PROSPEROUS, POEMHUNTER POET’S PRAYER”
Dear Lord, let us pray…….,
Bless all PoemHunter poets….,
Including of course……,
Whatever forum they frequent…….,
On this New Years Eve of 2007…….,
With health and happiness for 2008……,
And every year yet to come……,
Then fill us all with creativity…….,
Prosperity and true love…….,
Bring the whole world…….,
To the peace and tranquility…….,
We all dream and write about……,
In our PoemHunter poetry…….,
This is a Prosperous, PoemHunter Poet’s Prayer….! ! !
(THANK YOU JESUS…..! ! !)
(12/24/2007 10:21:00 PM)
do you wish to go into the unknown.. to the dark,
never come back,
nuthing could pull you out...g-d
(11/20/2007 9:39:00 AM)
On Writing Poetry
Robert Frost once observed in a moment of pet,
That tennis is foolish when played without net.
So a poet abandoning rhythmical verse
Was to him just a lightweight (or something far worse) .
As I see it, the goal’s not to best an opponent
But determine a theme, then refine, shape and hone it.
Using rhythm and rhyme adds a memorable sound.
(Who truly recalls much of Elliot or Pound?)
If you would write your verse in classic rhyme,
You’ll probably use the iamb all the time.
Iambic feet in groups of five are stately
Yet lithe, as used by Shakespeare cherished greatly.
Trochees, though, have lots of power;
Use them when you snarl or glower.
Shorter lines, three feet or four,
Let you grasp your subject’s core.
The bounce of the anapest many find funny
As it scampers along like the legs on a bunny.
Yet its lilt appears often as part of our speech
So it can bring subjects within the heart’s reach.
Dactyls instead are insistent and driving,
Forceful and rolling with purposeful striving.
Horses and trains, also feelings in motion
Show a dactylic rhythm if you’ve got the notion
When you need change in the rhythm, it’s neat
To add strong spondees or weak pyrhic feet.
Slow down, look closely, or speed things up,
Add that dash of ‘different’ to your cup.
If you feel quite at ease with conventional forms,
That’s great. But if not, bid adieu to the norms.
Beyond the predictable, seek new realms of choice;
That’s where you must search to discover your voice.
Intense and insistent, poems are different from prose.
(Poetry, it’s said, never feels like prose to those who knows.)
For we treasure each line that rings true like a bell,
Spoken from the heart to our hearts wondrously well.
(11/16/2007 10:35:00 PM)
(11/16/2007 10:35:00 PM)
Gene Van Troyer
(11/12/2007 6:39:00 PM)
For those interested in poetic forms, I highly recommend two very useful books:
The New Book of Forms, by Lewis Turco (University Press of New England,1986)
-This is a useful quick reference handbook with examples to illustrate each form covered.
The New Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics, edited by Alex Preminger et. al. (Princeton University Press,1993) ISBN: 0-691-02123-6
-This covers everything.
My apology if I'm referring you to material that has already been mentioned in this forum.
(10/30/2007 7:31:00 PM)
check out my poems please, I'm pretty new to writing poetry, I usually write random thoughts, but I really enjoy poetry now.
(10/10/2007 7:17:00 PM)
'What I love about John Logan's poems is what we loved in him as a man: their warmth and directness, their affection for the world and its lives and the way they happen. The poems seem transparent, a current in which orescence and change, joy and loss, our involvement with them, are all but palpable.'
- W.S. Merwin
after János Hegedüs
and for Jill Bullitt
The moon is in sight
On a poplar rotting in the night
Two lamps of eyes catch fire
Two clawed feet clutch at their desire
The profound owl
Ferocious and gray
For he is hungry as can be
He is hungry as can be.
by John Logan
©BOA Editions, Ltd 1989
American Poets Continuum Series
(10/8/2007 11:01:00 AM)
Hey everybody.Please read my poems and rate it.Please!
(9/20/2007 5:18:00 PM)
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I found the interesting rhyme scheme for 'Though I Shoulder This Rain', in a poem by Dorothy Nimmo, the Settle poet who died a few years ago. (I live in Settle, Yorkshire.) Unfortunately I haven't got her poem to hand...
Though I Shoulder This Rain
Though I shoulder this rain like a pack,
I know a part of me will always be
in Johannesburg Transvaal, in Bellevue,
near the vagrant root of a flowering tree.
I know that part of me will always be
where purple jacarandas wash over the street -
with my brother feeding the pigeons, who with fencing wings
strut and bobble about his sandalled feet.
Where purple jacarandas wash over the street:
tender report of the popping flowers.
pressed by wheelers and walkers, the shouters, talkers
who pass under his balcony at all hours.
Tender report of the popping flowers.
Clickbang of lightning: my memories persist
vivid as the storm through England's drizzle.
They will stay with me as long as I exist.Replies for this message: