Long Rimes Poems
Long Rimes Poems. Below are the most popular long Rimes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rimes poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh dear Muse, help me write this verse for thee
Give me the strength to write, and fulfill my destiny.
The lines and rimes that below will be read,
Come from the mind of a disturbed head.
A poet who will share a captivating tail,
And he hopes on this mission he won’t fail.
The story goes back in space and time: long ago,
In far away kingdom a newborn is about to show.
Little fragile boy showing his face to the world,
At least that how this poor poet’s heard.
Little William was his name of course until he grew,
Than William it became, but still “little” to a few.
As the years passed by William got much smarter
Than any man, and that’s why he left to go farther.
He left his village seeking the final, untainted truth:
“Why are we here, why does every man have a LIFE?”
He searched high and low, but still didn’t find a clue,
To his question. But someone can answer it… but whom?
Trying to figure out the truth he stumbled upon a cave.
Entering he found traces of a speech once home he gave.
Who was the strange admirer? Who’s home hath he found?
He suddenly felt a short breeze and slowly turned around.
He was rendered speechless by the sight he had to face,
It was himself, like in the mirror; he had seen his own face.
Stiff as a board he’d stare at his twin, searching a mismatch
But futile, none was found. “So you’ve made the big catch”
The fellow said, “Are you happy now? Or confused?”
For you see, it was indeed himself, who he had faced.
He, the twin was his soul’s other side, the wise one.
Once he understood, whiteout a breath the twin had gone.
Gone away, leaving William alone, but pondering,
He had noticed a piece of paper with some writing.
It was a speech he gave, a speech very long ago,
About his first true love, about passion and grace.
He understood, now a new challenge he would face.
His mission was to tell the world the secret, hidden
Truth: Love. Love is the answer he had been given.
So simple yet so complex, so easy than again intricate.
Knowing, that no one would accept love, only hate.
Poor William could not cope with the burden so heavy,
So he rested his head, and slept for an entire eternity,
Leaving the people to wonder and continue searching,
Knowing, that they will never experience such a true feeling.
Sad story, but true, oh Muse I tell thee…
William was non other, than poor old me.
" Revenant "
In direction unforeseen yet then 'nother am I drifted~
Winds have their way & through my whims have thus sifted~
Yet oft have been waves of similar significance~
Which may have been received with much less cognizance~
‘Tis said now & agin' were a man a bit more old~
Those truths which he ushered forth might not be so bold~
Were now I to be one o'the wiser & thusly called sages~
Methinks I'd be a'lookin' far far back through familiar ages~
Mebbe to those times of youth & greater glee~
Mebbe along those lines of women set so free~
Mebbe I'd look agin' & in so doin' so see~
Truth were so simply there right inside o'me~
‘Twere thoughts o'the mermaids all was it were~
If'n battles so waged created in mind still a stir~
I'd be a'not so a writin' this here little rime~
Nor fer certain would it be now not about time~
Nay say I naught ever dids't methinks~
Wherever whenever I took all me drinks~
‘Twere it so written in those stars way aloft~
Fer me to have grown old & verily so soft~
Fire dids't I breathe fer so so many o'those years~
Darin' & dancin' fer never a'knowin' such fears~
Damn'd so now to be found such a'thinkin'~
Lookin' yet agin' fer all maids to be a'winkin~
‘Tis silly methinks I've grown through these times~
So silly that methinks most always in such rimes~
Yet therein lies such question as to m'self must I ask~
‘Twas wha'for such a reason ye've taken yerself to task~
Aaaarrrrgh! Revenant! Thus I rumble from a'deep~
Awakenin' me ownself from greatest o'sleep~
‘Tis questions which do so bother me now all a'bluster~
‘Tis sense so common I'm a findin' hard to a'muster~
Answer me now those of ye in the know~
When where & wha'for does this wind now so blow~
I'm fer certain left with not any reasonable quip~
To any I'd be grateful fer any such a tip~
Nay nay now belay that I've just asked of ye all~
Fer were it fer certain time 'twouldn't be any such a ball~
Methinks I'll so settle back agin' in me familiar wild waves~
Takin' naught but those pleasures such as that which I craves!
SeaWolf
©
" 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
©
Casted wrong feeling
Yesterday was much better
Today cries for warm healing
For morrow not to be a debtor
Or else, the whole isn't appealing
I never got such a dude in line
Happy moment has been fraudulent
Temporal is long vacation at the shrine
Sad moment is no difference cum design
To back up resumption of peace so violent
Let us pretend we never met
May be(if not fine) we can get along
Let us pretend we are poets cum duet
May be(probably never) see each other so wrong
In act of actualizing deeds without regret
Not for anyone, you wouldn't wanna fall
I don't think( in any instance) that would ever work
But you wish to feel among the way we ball
You can only over time develop more a quirk
Thinking you were there but growth thou forestall
Don't love them anymore with thy heart
How can you be home dieing and crying
For long, you've done well been so smart
Don't leave until you changed love not complying
Check, don't live on with that spell; kindly restart
It is better than sending live out to hell
Where yelling continuously compounds
In pains of groan without possibility to be expell
Except it becomes adamant as it abounds
Putting a stop to all seeds planted of earthly spell
A year ago
You were you
Suddenly let go
Fast of you so true
Into a raging bullying ego
Good luck is the wish of these times
Prayer has been on lips everyday long
Before it gets weary, been bordered sometimes
Makes it hard to learn the best song
To sing during praise and worship indoor of rimes
While kneeling unto God Whom you adore
You should also learn the level of maturity
Alongside the peace of neighbors and strangers to restore
The height of reasoning and conversing cum obscurity
Before its end sweep thy name and memories offshore
© Olábòsóyè Wèmímó Oláolúwá
® 2022
I am a poet
I sprinkle hearts
With verses, flowers
Rhymes and kisses
In front of this mute
Beauty
Which moves away
And that I ogle
Oh! Woman
Madam
God has opened up the Heaven
To meet and greet us
Two chalices of honey
Are near the oasis
You and I are going for a swim
In the middle of summer
And afterwards, on the beautiful pavement
We will go for a walk
What an evening of beauty
Of love, of peace
Of joy and gaiety
In front of the bay!
Copyright © October 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.
Je Suis Un Poète
Je suis un poète
J’arrose les cœurs
De vers, de fleurs
De rimes et de baisers
En face de cette beauté
Muette
Qui s’éloigne
Et que je lorgne
Oh ! Femme
Madame
Dieu a ouvert le ciel
Pour nous recevoir
Deux calices de miel
Sont près du réservoir
Toi et moi nous allons baigner
En pleine saison de l’été
Et après, sur le beau pavé
Nous irons nous promener
Quelle soirée de beauté
D’amour, de paix
De joie et de gaîté
En face de la baie !
Copyright © Octobre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l’auteur de nombreux recueils de poésie.
Soy Un Poeta
Soy un poeta
Salpico corazones
De versos, de flores
De rimas y de besos
Frente a esta muda
Belleza
Que se aleja
Y que yo miro con los ojos
¡Oh! Mujer
Señora
Dios ha abierto el cielo
Para encontrarnos y saludarnos
Dos cálices de miel
Están cerca del oasis
Tú y yo vamos a nadar
En pleno verano
Y después, sobre la hermosa acera
Daremos un paseo
iQué tarde de belleza
De amor, de paz
De alegría y de júbilo
Frente a la bahía!
Copyright © Octubre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados.
Hébert Logerie es autor de numerosos poemarios.
**Disclaimer: This is strictly satire-tongue-in-cheek-written before I became a poet- sort of. An opportunity to laugh at myself but poets, rock!
Poetry Defined
Poetry is tedious
with its
silly syntax and similes and symbolism
and analogies and allegories and…alliterations.
Stein said, “a rose is a rose is a rose” until it isn’t, claims Magritte.
Why does it have to be
so…
abstract?
It isn’t a game show-
Don’t make me guess;
what has velvety concentric circles when dried creates
mind numbing potpourri?
Poetry is bouffant.
Marie Antoinette pompous and full of itself.
Rhythm and rimes- iambic pentameters or haiku
just tell me the story.
It’s laborious and lengthy-
ever read a short poem that said anything?
Poetry is frivolous –
all the skipping throughs and dashing off to sunsets
and crossing ponds.
It short circuits the brain and takes liberty with
punctuation and lack of paragraphs
with its stops and starts
and no periods or commas
to know when you can breathe again
or drift off or get a snack.
Never put an exclamation point in poetry! (exclamation point noted)
That’s excitement;
poetry is nonchalant; like a lazy tabby reposed on a tattered couch.
“ I’d rather not be analyzed,” declares the poet.
“I have a shrink.”
For me a simple story will do
like,
My “once upon time”
won’t really rhyme
and at the end
you will see
they can still say
“I love you”
without sitting under a tree.
I bow down before the break of day...
Where the feeling of melancholy apprehension
fades by the emblazoning and dilating skies
Yet the stillness behold a sensation
even amid the hues and cries.
I concieve of a deity beyond the breaking horizon
and I strain my ears to get a line of her notes
her voice vibes a distinctive emotional vibration
that airs along with an enigma and with paroles.
I bear upon an image to her heart and soul
and entrap her amid the clamor of life and time
she partakes the rimes from the shaft of my sole
that cheeps, that splashes, that gongs and aerates down the way of time.
I tried to grab her beauty over the time I framed her in my mind,
she dissolves into colours of nature to the plumes of life,
and when I get hold of her smile,
I could feel all the sounds whispering in my nostalgic vibe.
I listen to a series of chirps
breaking in the light of a clear blue morning
from the mankerel sky to the silence of the streams
it echoes a continuous and profound contemplation to an ideal buffering.
I baffle at the edge of a cliff
breaking the silence of the lush green ambiance
the steep descent of the water splashing in the pool
forms its own way from a narrow spattering stream to a wide confluence.
I stood still at the threshold of a new journey
the steps showed me the path to get hold of tranquility
the distant toll of the bells and gongs reverberated the secluded alley
my time of day acquainted my song of praise - Hymn.
I am a poet with many lovers
Girls of the same mother; they're all sisters
It feels good being polygamous
And I'm lucky that my girls aren't jealous
I love the Japanese girl called Haiku
She's short and sweet and that's just cool
All she desire is three lines
Of seventeen syllables with sweet rhymes
Limerick, Epic, Ode and Acrostic
All are my babies and they're cute without lipstick
They share fun, tell a story and give praises
But they're always naked so I clothe them with words as dresses
Not too long ago, I started to date couplet
And now she's pregnant with a twin set
In a relationship with Free verse
Although she flirts with other poets
I still love her cause she has less stress
Had a date with Elegies
But I don't really love her
She brings sad memories
I pray to hear her say it's over
From how it seems, I think Lyric is crushing
My phone been busy with her calls and texting
She's pretty interesting, I'll give her a chance to say her emotions and feelings
I made sonnet divorce Shakespeare
Took her to the court and gave her a ring to wear
Can't go deep with her, that's the sad thing
But she's a darling just at age fourteen
I got deep love for Bouts-Rimes
She loves to play the poetry game
Give me words and say I should create rhyming scheme
All of my partners are daughters of the same mother
So just call me Josh; poetry Son In-law
Nevermore, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet : Nevermore
(In this translation of Paul Verlaine’s « Nevermore » , I must say I felt inveigled into adhering to the fixed form by making some unnecessary allowances just in order to respect the rime scheme. It would have been better if I had abandoned the effort at laboriously keeping to the original’s end-rimes. T. Wignesan)
Souvenirs, souvenirs, what do you want of me ? Autumn
Invites the thrush to fly through the air lifeless sans tone,
And the sun beats its rays down : relentless monotone
Over the yellowing wood where claps the North wind’s thunder tone.
We were walking all by ourselves as if in a dream,
She and I, haïr and thoughts buffeted by the wind’s non-esteem.
All of a sudden, she turned towards me her looks agleam
« Which was your most beautiful day ? » did her lively golden voice beam.
Her voice soft and sonorous, a fresh timbre angelic.
A discreet smile she did redeem as a reaction cyclic,
And her blanched hand I kissed with devoutness.
Oh ! the first flowers, how their scent liberates perfumes !
And the first sounds they emit akin to charming murmur
The first « yes » that escapes the lips of virgin dames consumes !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Cars are the wind on the streets
semi-truck wheels shriek thunder,
rain shatters against stone and brick walls
on dusty roads, oak trees fence with twigs—
wushu wooden clatters.
Dreadful arrays of dryads
azure and amethyst gossamer haze,
sleek, silken strikes gist an opera of wisteria,
as they sway to silver breeze's sibilant rustles.
They chant lullabies in lyrical lilts of hued iridescence,
of hearth and opals back to my scarlet nest.
Angelus silver trills, the sylphic sways of pure rays,
Coral rosary—incense strands of aurulent rimes
hum, endless hymns echo as choral evensong
alleluias softly peal out—doves with wet eyes
that drift upward on whispery—ethereal wings.
Ocean's plea emerges from apothic abyss,
a voice conveys the core of faxed shores and stars,
with earth and wind in a solemn tone.
A cosmic biography—in loud squeals and sighs
sea vernacular hinges on nature's lasting awe.
Breath goes to fog—snow melts into puddles—rain returns,
a china-white grave—encases the deceased deer,
before thawing in the morning—icy skin lies frozen.
An eerie distance holds my hand in a purifying blizzard.