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Best Iamb Poems

Below are the all-time best Iamb poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Iamb poems written by PoetrySoup members

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The Best Iamb Poems

Details | Iamb Poem | |

Now and Then

Is this the world that was so young and fresh and fair but yesterday? From leafy bows the robin sung Is this the world that was so young? Wild bees upon the clover swung And grove and field with bloom were gay Is this the world that was so young and fresh and fair but yesterday? Is this the world that was so young and fresh and fair but yesterday? Sere leaves beneath our feet are flung Is this the world that was so young? As if wild hands spectre wrung Hither and thither, sobbing, sway Is this the world that was so young and fresh and fair but yesterday?
+++ October 9, 2014 Form: Triolet (Iamb Tetrameter) Dr. Ram Mehta Second place win Contest: Structured Forms Iamb Verse III by Giorgio V.

Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta

More great poems below...

Details | Iamb Poem | |

A FORMal Evening

Haibun trying to read your mind from afar,
sitting acrostic from you at the bar.
Iamb itching to sit on the stool beside you,
but somebody's sonnet - and I don't think she'll move.
Are we just a couplet of friends having drinks?
Maybe you quintella me what you think.
I feel giddy and dizain without any warning,
and I know I'm going to feel verse in the morning.
But we've been playing footles and it feels so right,
so why not just tanka me home tonight?

Copyright © Heather Ober

Details | Iamb Poem | |


iamb song,or
long-short trochaic,taut,
spondaic long,with syllables
octa,which choice numbers for my
and anapestic
with syllables three-
this poetry's a stress to far..
for me !

Copyright © Brian Strand

Details | Iamb Poem | |

A Child Jabbers Spondees

Its feet are tiny dimeter,
Body, spirit, soul, trimeter,
Would you look at those ears and eyes
Whose tetrameter rhyme defies

Its foot with pentameter toes,
Smelled by monometer nose!
Don’t fret when its iamb voice speaks 
Cheerful quatrains for days and weeks.

Stand still while it jabbers spondee,
In stanzas of metered trochee.
Well, my friend, please do not pretend,
Or you’ll cause more stress at the end.

Each verse it speaks is oh, so sweet
For it’s growing Longfellow feet!
Sit back, relax, put on a smile,
You’ve been zapped by a poet’s grandchild!

Copyright © James Tate

Details | Iamb Poem | |

If I were...

If I were a sonnet poem
A lover would read my proem
she’d recite all my lines
and would stress my end rhymes
and love the syllables iamb.

Copyright © Albert Ahearn

Details | Iamb Poem | |

Hear this

in my poem they do sit
each the others opposite;

a foot is two syllables long,
lines of them make up my song
any such fine
if this topic still makes you yawn
just keep on with open form!

Copyright © Brian Strand

Details | Iamb Poem | |

An Explosion In The Poem Factory

I told him not to mix metaphors
But he wouldn't listen

In the back room
Behind thick steel door
Diction is ground
Into ever smaller bits 

Raw material
In the early stages
Of production 

Must be
Carefully handled 

Rhyme scheme
Followed meticulously 

All aspects of alliteration
Albeit artfully 

Along with assonance
Quickly mixed 

A cautious choice
Of iamb
Or trochee 

Or anapest 

And measured 

To the proportion
Of your rhetoric 

Remembering to always
Watch the meter 


Somewhere between
Adage and axiom 

And metaphor 

A mistake was made 

Too much hyperbole
Added perhaps 

Setting off a repetition
Of rhythm 


Until language itself
Could no longer hold 

A massive blast 


Heard for miles around
And all that they found 



 * (creation in destruction) 

Copyright © Shanice Hilliard

Details | Iamb Poem | |

Lyric a la Mode

I am a true contemporary
who knows how to acceptably 

write a poem.  First with a tangible
aroma of burnt toast, I will run on

my imaginary couplets like a stroke
victim of the modern prejudices.

(Strophe’s choice is put aside, and 
Iamb not going to count my feet.)

Once cute, most common figures of speech have 
worn out their fashion like poorly matched metaphors.

(Do not rhyme, remember, do not rhyme,
as you wax nostalgic for some childhood time… damn!)

Pent up pentameter oozes with therapeutic 
confessionals that spring or dance or likewise

incongruently twist uncomfortably on the page,
while conjuring an image both shamefully personal

and embarrassingly boring from a tourist’s slide show 
or the shoebox full of faded, classic Polaroids.

Sardonically satiristic, I’ll reach-around to reference
an obscurely erudite portrait of some saint, like 

Christina The Astonishing’s flight into the rafters
of the church to avoid the stink of her own kind.

And at the end of a turbulent typhoon of irregular lines
washing deeply into the recesses of nowhere in particular,

I will, after too long a time, finally and hopefully declare:
une mule morte sur les clefs du piano.

Self satisfied, I’ll end my rant -- non sequitur but unchallenged…
or would you prefer a tantalizing inquiry of you, Dear Reader?

Copyright © James Ph. Kotsybar

Details | Iamb Poem | |

Fourteen Verses

My passion is to write modern sonnets
Yes indeed modern not traditional.
Iambic pentameter I regret
Is too restrictive and conditional.
I had observed that many years ago.
Expression of thought is more important
Than any well-placed iamb, apropos.
These little songs* are not songs at all; shan’t
Pretend when they're not. Mine are messages
That I compose within fourteen verses: 
Some assurances, other presages.
They are my work for better or for worse.
If I fail to convey in fourteen lines
I'd nothing to say and wasted your time.

* Sonnet means little song.

Copyright © Albert Ahearn