Best Rime Poems
(In a churchyard in Northern Ireland)
Through the broken and barren trees
Winter exhales its coldest breeze
From the wintry breath of northern seas
That can chill the warmest soul.
Thus in the churchyard by the sea
Nigh one broken and barren tree
Lies cold a soul once warm to me
Beneath the winter’s rime.
As the heart of winter doth unfold
I feel its touch, so dark and cold,
For I yearn at night to yet behold
That soul once warm to me.
But in earthen depths doth she lie
E’er below the moon and starlit sky
As yet unto her grave I wander by
And despair the winter’s rime.
O’ the winter wails upon the still
With its bleak and bitter chill
That conjures from the nightly nil
A soul once warm to me!
Alone, alone, all, all alone
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
Rime and Reason I Shall Not
Rime and reason I shall not wonder about,
but the wonders of the sea and its wandering.
I zip in quickly, unzip these Coleridge lines.
I’m all alone as I wander and wonder about.
How pitiable we are as we seek pity,
a pittance of our inside-outs, our doubts.
A whirlwind of living dances about,
in one’s unparalleled walkabout.
All alone in the fog - how does no one else
fathom-see the endless waves of gravity.
Like a lasso-chain about one’s ankles,
heart, lips, mind, emotions; the mourner’s trip.
After, all the battles of cancer are history,
I’m hanging onto Queequeg’s coffin,*
that ebbs in things gone by and flows
with tears that steer my little lost ship,
Rime and reason shared, a lot, and rocks
the boat. Inevitability of solitude in one’s thoughts.
Your hand grips the phone to reach out
but ultimately you phantom-float, and drift.
Sam says “never a saint took pity on…”
The answers are not found. You have to beat
the imagery to death. You end up back in the room
more than the hospice worker, where walls are bright.
The waves close in. Its eyes blank stare
and circle about. You find the smallest details
and ruminate as family fill in the blanks.
You pick each herring up, as if their death’s your fault.
Others take credit for what you know you did
and you question and doubt what you perceive.
All alone on the mourner’s island. It’s not pretty.
But you’ve joined the club, your only solace.
When you’ve picked the scene to death,
like a bird eats his prey, you leave it all,
all alone. The memories are stored away.
Those memories, real or imagined.
faith is never blind
faith's someone to trust
& to find -
If roses alabaster white e'er deign
To cast in crystal eyes one purposed song,
Dare tenderly to grasp the bluest vein
O, golden tears, a reddened heart ere long.
For blown, a wind of breath, whisked far along
Does shimmer in all time stood silent--still,
And by the lunar light, a broken will.
Come morning, to the rose in bed, love spoke
A cantillation voiced in bluebird tongue
How doth thy petals rise with blood of oak?
How dost thy stem ascend the fairest rung?
On heights o' heaven hast the soul been hung
For all, for all, to bare no droplet spared
O Life, in alabaster love repaired.
- Aron Jacob
" Mom's Rime "
Sailing across an ocean deep...
those colours so all a'glitter~
I've found time is mine all away...
if I so choose to fritter~
Thus now does tedium seep...
of task so many and long~
'Tis plentiful then this time I fancy...
with which to think in song~
Rime becomes such music so...
puts my mind at ease~
Thus in doing 'tis now I find...
that it's me myself I please~
Oft be such.. time I'll find...
these rimes do run together~
Magic thus now found aloft...
Of birds all of a feather~
So now it is that this day so...
has me with thought of another~
A day which has itself to say...
a rime or song I'd ruther~
Where I sage or prophet thus...
No reason to ask for clue~
I'd sail off... forget this thought...
and pay the devil his due~
Yet rime that sings in mind this song...
reminds me so of pleasure~
Only that which my youth did find...
was so great and grand a treasure~
Were it not for age.. and wisdom thought...
I'd not be thinkin' this way~
Nor would I know one treasure is naught...
but about a Mother and her day~
For now I know those days were fine...
and ever full of fun~
That were it not for her gentle laugh...
and smile warm as sun~
I'd be not the sailor I am this day...
nor would I be a man~
Was my Mom always up her sleeve...
did have for me this plan~
So then it must be with gratitude...
and a heart near soft as hers~
I say to all I've lived a ball...
of times with no such measures~
By any standards other than those...
for which my sweet Mom did live~
Her thoughts were always of direction pure...
her desire to only give~
She sails now seas of harmony...
where winds are warm and soft~
She's my Mom forever... so then in heart...
my mind does feel her oft~
Warm words and songs of fancy sprung...
so ever and always fun~
Truth be known now finally I'm grown...
her treasure was just me her son~
SeaWolf
©
IDE like 2 live , in a luner coloney .
Wair all us aytheist hockey players can live in liberty .
Away from all the dirtey talkers like Richard Pryor .
& away from people hoo are addicted 2 the kwyir !
People hoo cover thair burgers with cooked onions & mayohnaze ,
Are the kind of people , hoo are sureley mayo krazed !
These people use nouns as verbs ! And thay woent
Stops saying , all seven dirtey words !
So all us hetiroe sapein boys , invite all you orange haired girls
2 the moon , included are free tickets 4 the Tokyo orbital eluhvaytor ,
So you can see us soon !
" Rime of the Ridiculous Mariner "
{warbled to the Merry Tune: Jingle Bells!}
Jingle Bells & Flyin' Hulls
All sheets in so tight~
Yikes Ahoy! There's the ploy!
Sail right through this night!
Run downwind beat to weather
fall off as ye wish~
Set your mizzen up yer main
tops'ls catch all flyin' fish!
All's well in yer cockleshell
if'n yer head be screwed on right~
Ne'er fear horizon's near
as ye sail as though in flight!
Some shall say if they may
yer off yer rocker tonight~
They them are whot's ne'er far
from bein' sunk from sight!
So this I say to them that may
now hold your hands aloft!
Fer if ye think a sieve will sink
yer mind is goin' soft~
A hole is but what a troll doth see
when all is nightly dark~
For they who may shall thusly say
to all a merry Hark!
Plug yer doubts & ne'er pout
for all shall soon be fine~
Break the cask & lift the flask
let's drink up all this wine!
Sail the ship & give the slip
to all that's dark & dull~
Rock & roll fill the bowl
let's sail this mighty hull!
To those who think this rime doth stink..
damn I say to ye~
Try yerself those wines top shelf
& stand so we all may see!
Fer if yer not all outta pot
& ain't fell in the drink~
I'll pipe right down without a frown
& really begin to think!
The smoke will show all such folk
whot's made me mind so daft~
Fer always have me wishes come
of that whot's all abaft!
One day soon shall then I swoon
as knowledge comes to me~
That all me life I've had me wife
around me as the sea!
Now this then is reason 'tis
me sits alone in bed~
Fer last wench was had me heart
we fell so soon apart!
She caught me far below the keel
& spoutin' off me spiel~
I tried me best but failed the test
got caught showin' off me eel!
Now I sail tied to the rail
for all mermaids to see~
He who did dare to bid
for just a moment's glee!
All whot was dear & near
such truly did'st I wish~
But Har! 'Twas sure underrr that keel
she surely was a dish!
Avast! Ye say! 'Tis way too much
all this rime of such~
So shall I agree as with my sea
fer I've had me quite a touch!
I'll leave ye now & point me bow
into a raging wave~
Fer now ye know I'm all a'blow
& naught but sea do crave!
Jingle Bells & Flyin' Hulls
All sheets in so tight~
Yikes Ahoy! There's the ploy!
I'll sail right through this night!
SeaWolf
©
There was a naughty boy
And a naughty boy was he
For nothing would he do
but scribble poetry:
he took up his pen
again&again
with never a doubt
inside his head
ideas did shout
Why was this so
No-one did know
For like Topsy
they just seemed to grow!
Rime, a crunchy, rough, as it glows prime snow
On the surface of all that snow, like a white cameo
Popcorn or Styrofoam plastered at zero below
Rippled from the nemesis cold wind, frozen curling overflow
Onto naked trees and all, when it comes, Rime it does grow
On windy mountaintops that tumble to and frow
As it goes on windward side that blows
Black and white collection of snow ghosts show
A nemesis on the premises when it’s zero below
2/21/2022
A Brian Strand Rime Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
What's the worst that could happen to us,
don't count getting hit by a bus.
I feel so drunk that I fell off the sub.
I am not the same.
So mad I set fire to the pub.
You are never to blame.
Night's light is broken, and my silhouette
must trust the moon to free itself, reveal
my life—my loving him with no regret.
The edges of my face do not conceal
my feelings. They support a smile as real
as yesterday's hope. I think Shakespeare suffered
as I have suffered. I, at least recovered
enough to leave you concrete details: June.
The weather, between seasons. Time to party!
Music—the mix in any good saloon.
He came. Exuberant! Unrestrained! Hearty.
If Will were here, he'd film our scenes with arty
touches. How could he not. I loved him well.
And he, me. ::Fade to tern, and rising swell.
A poet was rhyming an ode
Driving his car down the road
He became so engrossed
That his car hit a post
And his trousers became a commode
So from that day on our sweet poet
Swore on his word that he'd stow it
avoiding such deep concentration
Before he'd become so unravelled
Or he'd be on a roadway less travelled
IN RIME OR ELSE IN CADENCE
The musical rhythm of vers libre
a sequence of concepts and propositions,
a record of impressions clothed in beauty.
Instinct over thought,independent of
form,prose with cadence lyrical expression.
A harmonic flow of nuances the length
and breadth of Verse, in rime or else
cadence where emotions are the driving force.
Ekphrasis tribute to and inspired by F S Flint
You may hear me recite this and most of my PS
Anthology on YouTube under my pen name
ichthyschiro
Read over 250 of my short forms @strand poet on twitter
The picturesque white haired landscape Windows of icy flowers offer a prismatic show Thorny ice crystals everywhere the trees cannot escape Even time seems to stand still frozen by the hoary cold Grabbing up some graupel like a treasure of frigid pearls Everything is now crystalline even the mist frosty winds have taken control with its Midas swirls Wondering what kind of wintery spell is this
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"Of Which There Was No Rime"
O'once there was a time...
of which there was no rime.
No thought of such did loom...
no fiery cauldron's plume.
As now time... hath run its very glass...
seems doth it...
now thus so harass:
No wind no sea no cloud nor sky...
no ship no sail...
nor sailor's rose to steer by.
Only wind remains... damned wind...
As though 'twas had I'd truly...
Sailed naught but sin.
Caught they were those winds when young...
Now their song but over...
Thusly so well sung.
Now... there is a time...
Of which there was no rime.
SeaWolf
©
Spring o'2015 Caribbean Sea
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