after night
morning write
early sun
day begun
new breath taken
I awaken
words dance on page
I awaken
new breath taken
day begun
early sun
morning write
after night
*footle palindrome form
Upon the threshold of the mind I stand;
grasping a latch of cold and rusted steel.
To seek the wonders of a hidden land;
Beyond the reach of reason’s stern reveal.
The golden key is but a restless thought;
A hunger for the truths we yet deny.
Through dusty halls, the ancient spark is sought;
To light the shadows where the secrets lie.
Then swing the portal wide on hinges bold;
Let strange and sapphire vistas greet the sight.
For when the spirit’s map begins to fold;
This narrow path shall lead to endless light.
Stay not within the cage of what is known;
For through this door, the seeds of stars are sown.
A poetic quiche needs lots of verbs, nouns, adverbs, adjectives and words
A large bowl is needed to add all the ingredients, spices and keywords
Stir together with some peppered punctuation to perfect your dish
Add a spritz of thyme to give you time to season your poem as you wish
Syllables help flow and mold your dough, so it doesn’t flake like fish
Roll your dough out to fit your word pie poem to make your words delish
Add a bunch of periods, metaphors, rhyming words and funny nouns too
Chop and mix until all the letters and jargon stick together like glue
Add another word dough on the top with some tasty picture bits
Brush the top with some shredded fresh monoku lined spritz
Pour your poetry mixture into your word plate with a title splash
Bake in your poetry oven until done, season with quote, just a dash
When done, let your word quiche cool for some stanza's to taste
Cut into eight paragraph servings so that nothing is left to waste
Hopefully your metaphors and pictures are not too weird or strange
And you can enjoy your rhyming quiche without needing a word change
It is a hot Saturday night
Dan and Alice are in the park.
The moon spreads its wonderful light,
Thousands of stars shine in the dark.
Dan and Alice are in the park.
Among the flowers and the trees
They are enjoying a fresh, cool breeze.
The moon spreads its wonderful light
Over the fragrant greenery.
Now, the two lovers, seem to be, in a mirific scenery.
Thousonds of stars shine in the dark,
Arrows of light are shooting to Earth,
But, somewhere, in the two lovers' hearts is a genuine mirth.
No one understands the personal battles.
No one knows that pain
That I go through every single day.
Darkness constantly attacking my brain.
I go through thoughts that would make
The common man insane.
On my own to the point where my
Imagination created its own domain.
Targeted and picked on because I don’t drink
Or engage with champagne.
But that’s beside the point.
They criticize me when I complain.
I legitimize what I sustain.
People tried to make it rain
When I couldn’t make it sprinkle.
People live their lives in vain
While I live mine just single.
Some men dream to run a train.
I dreamed to be the shingle
To complete the roof over the heads
Of my generation so that the
Truth could intermingle.
And....
Forget it.
Leach lessons come with rains of spring on soil.
Give freely wise teach without toil,
for soon enough the blossoms of peach arrive.
Embrace the flower, inhale peace and strive.
What follows is song bird’s perch on arch
and fruit when summer's heat will parch.
Rhyming Poetry
By Franklin Price
3/10/2015
Rhyming poetry to me
An exercise of mind
A practice in vocabulary
A sound alike to find
Can't forget about the flow
Must sound nice to the ear
When read aloud to a gathered crowd
Or to myself to hear
Would ruin it to punctuate
Let the words do it themselves
Bring the thoughts out of my head
Brought there by rhyming elves
There are some that tell a story
Hope they rid you of some strife
And offer you some time away
From the rigors of your life
Some tell of times so long ago
Many reading them not born
My hope is that they light your day
As the rising sun in morn
Still others tout my point of view
Whatever it may be
I hope they get you thinking
Even if it's not like me
For me it's not a challenge
But the elves work very hard
Bringing poems from everywhere
I write them down to be a bard
If you enjoy my verses
Would like to offer me acclaim
The rhyming elves brought them to me
I only put them in my name
I am so fed up with the school of rhyme
and those that do it ALL THE flipping TIME
It how we are taught as little pups
it's not a genre befitting grow ups
It's okay to throw a rhyme in here and there
but Jesus Christ, really, EVERYWHERE?
If I start to read a pieces that rhymes
every other frigging line
it makes me want to yank out all my hair
so I close the page and go else where
if you think that rhyming is where it's at
then your sentiments are falling flat
Let the children have their style
Use it sparingly; once in a while
I wrote this poem to prove I can...
write just like neanderthal man
If variety is the spice of life
then tell me: why is rhyming so rife?
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.