Rhyme Poets Poems | Examples
These Rhyme Poets poems are examples of Poets poems about Rhyme. These are the best examples of Poets Rhyme poems written by international poets.
I love discovering new poets so I click the new user link a lot
There are so many feelings on a page, lest that I’ve forgot
I feel excitement as I read the new one’s first line or two
Trying to find something positive, wanting to encourage too
If the poem is about sex or cutting, I stop reading it right away
They will find the readers, but I will not be one of them, okay?
If it is about suicide, I will skip that one also, believe me.
These kinds of subjects take away my happy energy.
If the poet is a beginner their rhymes may sound like a forced jot
I overlook this, knowing they’ll get better, experience does a lot.
I write something upbeat and exciting, to encourage poets who are new.
For when I began writing poetry, this was done for me by many of you.
Ah my friends please lend an ear,
I have a secret I must share.
When the sun goes down at night
and the moon is in full sight,
I dim the lights, turn off the phone,
slip into bed, but not alone.
For when I crawl between the sheets
it is with Byron, Shelley, and Keats.
Shelley makes me a wanton soul,
ever playing the lover's role.
When I'm wrapped in Byron's prose
the fervor penned curls my toes.
I'm up 'til the stars are at sleep.
Keats words of beauty make me weep.
I have this need I can't deny
that makes me keep a poet nigh.
When I close the book at last
there are no shadows to be cast.
For I have wiled away the hours
enthralled with the poet's powers.
A point of time alone I mark,
And shine it best I may,
And plant brave flowers upon the way,
Before I must embark.
sometimes it's hard to be a bard
where hides hidden verse in paper yard
etched in stone or scribed in bars
follow the moon, follow the stars
Quiet as a mousie studying the route
Praying proper prep is not in vain
The best laid plans of marathoners
Might lead to disarray
Race day ending in grief and pain
At the expense of joy!
As if by magic the words appear
like gentle whispers that I hear
they blend together like perfect paint
sometimes whispering ever so faint.
With each brush stroke or tip of pen
the magic flows like peaceful Zen
ink pirouettes upon my page
like a Prima ballerina upon her stage.
Stanzas created as words come to play
forming together like poetic ballet
sometimes moving with beautiful grace
sometimes running to another place.
Words dance and slowly unfold
like a ballet story that needs to be told
starting with a Plie, done with ease
Poems form and aim to please.
There may be days you want to stop
just like The Nutcracker was once a flop
but now it’s famous, shared worldwide
so keep on writing, chasse or glide.
Let words appear without the strain
gently does it, you don’t want pain
Choreography & dance all take time
never rush performance or rhyme.
Global and genuine
Personality wise kind
Words and sentences their introduction and identification
Exploration throughout
Through the journey of their minds into reader’s hearts
Where the adventure starts
Destination bound from origin
Every Poet with their individual detail
Showcasing like a Museum
Their portal of wit and style
Emotions unleashed
What all minds crave
Testimony
Before into the after
Sentences lead and words follow
Up the alpha scale
Without fail
Pausing only for a moment
Days into hours
Seconds into minutes
Poets arrived
Determined to stay
Destiny all the way
Calm and assured
Poet’s words to never go astray
Reader’s always welcome
These silent pages, barren, white,
as still as any snow-filled night,
will come to life when dawn begins to breathe.
Then words, in fresh emotion caught,
like wind-blown leaves from limbs of thought,
drift down to paint the emptiness beneath.
In vivid colors, crisp and clean,
they whirl across the frozen scene
and circle in a poem like a wreath.
If it is written, so be it,
but who'll admit
to writing what was writ
when the fan is hit?
And, if, having inscribed,
the finger does proceed,
whose digit was it
when the words were decreed?
Yet, carved in stone,
or etched on glass,
who'll confess to pouring such concrete
when it comes to pass?
Poetry does not belong to those who write it, but to those who need it.~Pablo Neruda
A blank page is the bane of all writers.
Examples that are written are blighters.
Frustration would stay.
A word that escapes you for the moment
to capture a perception, you lament.
You should step away.
It has been said that good poetry heal;
it expresses how many people feel;
but others might flay.
If a reader should find it a comfort,
I’ll ignore ever-present discomfort –
I won’t lead astray.
My fellow poet Ilene can write.
I look for all her new poems on this site.
To read her work is surely a delight.
Being a resident of New Jersey,
seeing how she expresses herself is easy.
Ilene is so adept at poetry.
Dancing o’er the keys
with the greatest of ease
the poet’s fleet fingers
their own gentle breeze
Words appear from nowhere
magic on his screen
Waves his wand, they vanish ~
by the world yet unseen
Just two
Very
Succinct
Sound bites
Invite
Modest
Gleaning
Yet four
Verses
Supply
Structure
To a
Riddle’s
Meaning
Seven
Lines per
Stanza
Strengthen
Impulse
Into
Notion
Main points
Settle
Strongly
When the
Poet
Adds “E-
motion.
A whimsical word, so light, like a bird,
It floats on the air, with care, unheard.
Then floats to the ground, no sound, but it sings!
For all, all these years, in our ears, still rings!
A wisp on the wind, a poet, a friend,
Thus, from beginning to end, your light will transcend!
Running after Midnight is eerie
Passing mile twenty-one, weak and weary
All other runners finished early
A few quaint and curious are waiting
Some encouraging, some baiting
Only this and nothing more
Quoth my sore feet “Nevermore”