Rhyme Couplet Poems | Examples
These Rhyme Couplet poems are examples of Couplet poems about Rhyme. These are the best examples of Couplet Rhyme poems written by international poets.
to rhyme life’s unrhymed lines we just align ~
our vibrant presence with bliss beats divine
Not too many fellow poets read my lines anymore
I’m either rather predictable or a total bore
So, I’ve read the tea leaves; I’ve got to change
My mental approach I need to rearrange
Instead of couplets, should I write sonnets?
Or on every rhyme, put more spin on it?
I’m not sure, but something’s got to give
~ unless with a handful of readers I’m content to live
like in an ice cream shoppe or confectionery
a poet’s selection’s necessary
couplet or rhyme, lyrical chime
sonnet or ode, peach ala mode
fonts galore and shapes
like raspberry dreamscapes
symbolism in imagery, or
metaphor continuously
begin with the ending
end with the beginning
which person – 1st, 2nd , 4th, 3rd,
animal, human, fish or bird
infinite assortment, endless variety
~ remember not to leave out levity
“The only thing that can save the world is the reclaiming of the awareness of the world. That’s what poetry does.” — Allen Ginsberg”
What drives them to put pen to paper?
To be famous is that their caper?
The world to change?
Tell a story so strange?
Is it a more personal flaw?
Drawn the short straw?
Life made them feel dismay?
They have to live this way....
Prone to despair
Pull out their hair?
Caught in a landslide
Can't escape the ride...
They can analyse
Maybe even surprise
Put words to their feelings
They may even do healings
A pen you did choose
Your ideas more than clues
Why does a poet write
Because they can..... alright
I fuss and fidget over every line
Perhaps I’ll think of a fancier rhyme
Does my imagery delight
Are the analogies all right
Ye gads, what of lilt and flow
Is a sonnet the way to go
So many elements to consider
Let it not turn me bitter
It may have been written in the stars,
more likely it was written by Venus and Mars,
that ancient attraction between birds and bees,
shiny locks and shiny keys.
Secrets of space and time
wrap themselves into grace and rhyme~
stars strike the notes,
solar winds and sailboats…
Gravity writes the laws of attraction
resulting in celestial perfection.
A motive was sought
a killer who laughed
Left pictures of clowns
near victims, fore and aft
Scratching heads, pulling hair
nor reason nor rhyme was there
Investing time and money
when the belfry’s bare
wind gust blew winter away
seed corn hats in little cafe
It was likely lichen's provided the fuel
Evolutionarily leading to mortal and mule
They worked with the fungus that brung us to fore
Elevating our thought to what we thought was more
Than what had preceded, receded and left
We then reseeding, believing the best
It was what our creation and station now made
Us to invent cultivation and blade
Use in one allows us to grow strong and tall
The other decides what will stand, or will fall
It's best in the harvest when feeding us all
The test is the anger that comes with the Fall
I seldom write happy rhyme
Despite my heart’s inner chime.
Perhaps a rose is just a rose,
It lies with me in sweet repose.
The tears I cry are not my own,
By my one love they are sown.
Old Madame Claus was thoroughly tired and bored.
Even on Christmas Eve, she was at the board.
That fat old Santa expected her to scrub floors,
So, for her best sexy dress, she searched her stores.
She went to the barn where Rudolph was sleeping
"Get out there, you lazy deer and stop weeping,
We're going for a drive, and stop simpering.
Get the sleigh, warm attire, and stop whimpering.
Rudolph followed his nose and flew to the towns.
Folks wandered through the markets, all in gowns.
All saw Rudolph and Madame Claus eating cakes.
Both drove back to the North, Rudolph full of aches.
They stream in, seeking liberty
hoping for some sympathy
America once extended a welcome
Today the outstretched hand is seldom
Leaders neglected to check the newcomers
for police records, to view their true colors
We let in too many criminals, too much crime
with neither good reason nor rhyme
A perfect storm ensued
migrant murder and corruption
dominates the news
giving well-meaning Americans the blues
A tragedy could have been averted
had not government shirked its sworn duty
But now there are mass deportations
narrowly backed by a jilted population
The cat lay recumbent upon the luthier's bench
among violin carcasses and something French.
Morning cows making their way to the milking stool
stepped over a reflected moon in last rain's pool.
The farmer's little dog yapped in obvious glee
at the potential for milk, some butter, or ghee.
The Potters reflected on the note they've just seen.
Their dishy young girl, eloped, with boy from canteen.
An orange is much sweeter than a lemon or a lime
but hard to use in poetry because there is no rhyme
To live or die—Aye! that's the basic rub;
whether to drown in a flooded bathtub,
or to imagine the event in rhyme,
where do I find the tendency or time
to form such explosive, incendiary lines
that map the architecture of live mines?
To live or die—Alas! what's the insight?
Do I fall on my sword to end my plight,
or go on a spree and shoot up the mall
like white power, for my country and for all?
Or do I shoot a synagogue full of Jews,
for my childhood Rabbi's sexual abuse?
To live or die—O, God! Where must I turn?
The inward gaze alone makes the soul burn.
Yet senseless murder offers a false light,
a hotter, brighter blaze to end the night.
A fighter, I'll let my words' power inspire,
and won't set Denbigh Baptist Church on fire!