In this poem, there lies a fox -
but he's only just two shoes and socks.
Will you be the one
to find a simile to stun,
or will you open up the door
and find a metaphor?
In the heart of language, beauty takes flight,
A dance of words, both day and night.
From Greek roots, "making" is key,
In every poem, there’s a world to see.
With rhythm and sound, poets create,
A symphony of meaning that resonates.
Assonance whispers, alliteration sings,
Each line a treasure, the joy it brings.
Through euphony's charm and cacophony's roar,
Poetic devices open a magical door.
If my mind were a sea,
on one of its shores,
dreams would drift to me each night,
sometimes as beautiful as silken sand.
Also I might dream awake. In a contemplative state,
I feel the need to take waves of creative thought
and form them into phrases and then verses
which come together lyrically, constructed carefully
with rhyme and rhythm and other poetic devices.
These are the sandcastles of my mind.
On rare occasions, I discover
beautiful and genuine pearls of thought
inside my dreamy sand.
I fashion them into the best of my poetry.
These are my treasures that I keep safest
while most of my dear castles get swept away
as if by the ocean's tides,
not to be viewed by anyone ever again.
The times when my sea's tides run dry,
then my mind eventually creates tempests
which bring onto my sandy shore
feelings of despair or disappointment.
Rushing to me with bluster, they might rage.
More likely, they stir my soul with melancholia.
At these times, verses roll forth from my mind
free of meter or of rhyme.
If my mind were the sea,
I would hope for waves of creativity
to ever flow onto
my shore of dreams.
My confession
I murdered them all
impostors
claims of poetic devices
when the evidence was only
rants piled upon rants
A circle of praises
made the courts dizzy
the frauds committed
only added to their notoriety
under oath
all their poems shattered
The judge looked me in the eye
how do you plead sir
"Guilty as charged your honour"
I here by then sentence you to 19 days
you must pay for each crime
one day for each scoundrel exposed
Constance- a weaver of words- true and fair;
One sharing her heart with passionate care.
Noting deep feelings- life's joy and despair,
Surely portrayed with smooth rhythmical flair-
The gifts of poetic devices declare.
And, nature's beauty, her fine words will share;
Nestled in free-verse or rhymes- surely bare
Colorful imagery beyond compare-
Expressed with her pen- extraordinaire!
February 3, 2021
Premiere Contest: Capture The Essence
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
Poet Captured: Constance La France
My words are birds hatched from ideas
and nourished by my own opinions, beliefs and memories.
Nature too provides me with inspiration and wings to fly!
I build nests using poetic devices and various poetry forms – often rhymed.
nests of many thoughts
creatively constructed . . .
birdlings I set free
June 5, 2020 for Line Gauthier's Rhymes and Reasons Contest
Checked by WordCounter- prose less than 40 words
Poetry is art, art is poetry,
An amalgam of rare jewellery,
Words joined together in a unique way,
Expressing clearly what you want to say,
Add some similes, metaphors and rhymes,
A dash of poetic devices' chimes,
Conjuring up images with sweet words,
Talking of flowers, animals and birds,
Where else can you find such deep artistry?
Poetry is art, art is poetry.
09/20/18
They were to meet in middle of the mall
He clearly misunderstood... his downfall
If there had been some writing on the wall
This fight might not have happened at all
Unsure of what to wear or where to look
It's important to give more than he took
He seemed caught like a fish on a hook
His life story could be a comic book
He remembered everything that he could
Wanting to make amends for this, he would
Deep in his heart of hearts he knew he should
Would giving her the moon do any good?
Not his best day, if you know what I mean
Not a first mistake or last to be seen
Clearly, he committed to coming clean
He secretly wished to be somewhere serene
August 22, 2018
Litany of Poetic Devices
By Line Gauthier
1. Consonance;
2. Oxymoron;
3. Truism;
4. Internal Rhyme;
5. Homophones;
6. Idiom;
7. Simile;
8. Metaphor;
9. Tautology;
10. Hyperbaton;
11. Metonymy;
12. Rhetoric Question;
13. Innuendo;
14. Aphorism;
15. Alliteration;
16. Euphony
Winter finally moves his lumpen sluggish weight,
Spring is like a shy dryad shivering in his arms
Wind's whippets droop to trifling whine
Sullen rain hisses to a grizzle.
tiny fruit buds swell enough to moisten lips.
First daffodil maidens preen, bright faces so fair!
Chattering swallows check granite grey mortared mansion.
Duck naps snug, beak a chest --- gull floats overhead.
Longer days mean I must leave my snuggly, sleepy daze,
slightly more light; work energies reappear
poetry is laid aside in favour of trimming trees
seething solar heating sound, signals dimly smiling sun.
seed packets eagerly spread out – What to plant this season?
Suddenly, more bees aflight – our crops will be alright!
Another cycle begins!
1) Anthropomorphism 2) Simile 3) Metaphor 4) onomatopoeia
5)Synaesthesia 6) Personification 7) Sensory Imagery
8) Ellipsis 9) Homophone 10) Caesura 11) Pun
12) Alliteration 13) Rhetorical Question 14)Internal Rhyme
15) Truism
Written 20th August for Line Gautier Contest - A Litany of Poetic Devices
The truthful liar mesmerized no one
Even his most fervent followers fell short.
We watched his interchanges which seemed crazy,
And his bragging and grandiose plans abort.
His love seemed wrapped up in his loving buck,
Stealthy snake-like purport with enemies he would consort.
Boom! He was on the TV. Crash! He threw out a tweet.
Snorting, chortling, boredom ripe for a big red port.
We watched him boast and brag, some disgusted be.
Formative finance foreman finds a forever fort.
Political dissonance turning our country upside down.
Misogynist buffoon yelling fake news as a new sport.
Thy vileness and thy nastiness befouls thyself,
Thy fantasticalselfishness flamboyantly galantort,
Reinforces our mindfulness that being President is just a sport.
Lines 1 oxymoron 2 enjambment 3 homographs 4 inversion 5 homonyms
Lines 6 internal rhyme 7 onomatopoeia 8 consonance 9 hyperbaton 10 alliteration
Lines 11 metaphor 12 allusion 13 archaism 14 neologism 15 dissonance
Written 8-19-2018 Contest: A Litany of Poetic Devices
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
‘Is love not bitter’? I repeat once again,
‘Think with your brain ’it can make you insane.
Rejection pierces my heart like a sharp sword,
Makes me move faster and slower than old ford.
Pain grips my heart with hand of stainless steel ,
Love poisoned my mind which makes me sick still.
Feel flared and foolish for being taken for ride,
My soul rides beside the dead bride with pride.
As my faith in love vanished into deep sea ,
I want to be free and sting like a bee.
Which makes some heads and legs not to comprehend,
This has brought “more joy, less excitement” my friend .
I’ve vowed not to fall in love…anymore,
but some still believe in it and its glamour.
Line/devices :
1.aphorism 2.pleonasm 3. Simile 4. Oxymoron 5. Personification 6.Metaphor 7.Allitration 8.Internal rhyme 9.inversion 10.pun 11.Synecdoche 12.Paradox 13.Ellipsis 14.Enjambment
8-17-2018
Contest: A Litany of poetic devices
Happiness Is
Happiness is knowing and showing a beautiful smile
Allowing friendships to enter and grow for a long while
Presenting and inviting laughter as if it will never go out of style
Praising others can rave off with great knowledge like a file
Inviting happiness in your hearts makes your face light up for a long while
Never let anger stay in your heart; for laughter and happy thoughts do make everyone smile
Enthusiasm can be so very contagious, ringing off so many radiant beams so textile
Savoring smiles of true happiness can send off so many messages like a missile
So invite all those well-skilled Poets on Poetry Soup and keep beguiling like the river Nile
Illustrating to all diversity of poetic devices a happy constitution of words in commentary style
Saying, singing praises to all people on earth can be the best beacon to be Gentile.
Written: Nov. 15, 2015
Theresa W-C
I write, what to me and you
comma instead of colon, I use
Vowels at will, so what!
I am licenced to write poems.
Rhyme? a ring of my little finger
Rhythm but my gate keeper
Puns and punctuations Tom and Jerry
Fight often
Bark occasionally;
My mood but a King crazy
Raises huts
Breaks edifices
Punishes the metre
But saves the matter
Order reverse the reveries revered
I am licenced to write poems.
My inabilities, my poetic devices
Errors, my punctuation marks suitable
My blank and free verses
Nay but oxymorons and paradoxes
All faces fair
My pages to write
I write what others criticise
I re-write what others praise
I am licenced to write poems.
My metaphors are metachemical
My smilies, similarities ironical
My exclamations vary
Like my broken pens many
I write on walls, when it rains
I have my style unique and unfair
I use, misuse the Muse
I am licenced to write poems.
...for Sylvia Plath
Her grasp of things is gone,
she meddles, she is lost
with no prospect of redress.
She hovers shapeless,
rudderless in a
storm-toss'd mess.
Substanceless, tottering
in limbo's loveless hold,
only dross.
(Note: One of her poetic devices
was the use of multiple double-
vowel and double consonant words.)
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.