I work best in rhyme and meter. I was most confident of myself in that way.
Related quotes
Stealthily, free verse
You sit on my desk,
Your legs, a sonnet's couplet,
Perfect in meter and rhyme.
You look at me and smile;
Your dimples brighten my room
Lit only by glitched browser's light.
You puff your cigarette, blow
Smoke that wafts soothing incense
On my face, weary of weaving
Words into flawless lines.
From the other room, we hear
Carefree soles pounding on the floor
In perfect jibe with the sensual beat
Of percussion and drums.
For one brief moment we stare
Deep into each other's eyes... then
Stealthily, we exchange verses
From the depths of our own souls
Passionately free of meter and rhyme.
poem by Fidel Arcenas
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Lovely Rita
Lovely rita meter maid.
Lovely rita meter maid.
Lovely rita meter maid.
Nothing can come between us,
When it gets dark i tow your heart away.
Standing by a parking meter,
When i caught a glimpse of rita,
Filling in a ticket in her little white book.
In a cap she looked much older,
And the bag across her shoulder
Made her look a little like a military man.
Lovely rita meter maid,
May i inquire discreetly,
When are you free,
To take some tea with me.
Took her out and tried to win her,
Had a laugh and over dinner,
Told her i would really like to see her again,
Got the bill and rita paid it,
Took her home i nearly made it,
Sitting on the sofa with a sister or two.
Oh, lovely rita meter maid,
Where would i be without you,
Give us a wink and make me think of you.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rhyme, that enslaved queen, that supreme charm of our poetry, that creator of our meter.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Shilling In The Meter (Fun Poem 76)
Quick
put a shilling in the meter
let the sun come out to play.
The sun being expensive
that shilling won’t last that long
and soon the rain will come back
and the sun will fade away.
I searched my pockets,
and hunted high and low
for another shilling for the meter,
but there wasn’t one there.
So we are stuck with rain
from Monday and Sunday now,
unless someone out there
has another shilling for the meter
somewhere.
28 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Weeping Meter
If you're on a weeping meter,
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
If you're on a weeping meter,
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
The more you get some pity you sit and solicit it.
With a drive you started in campaign,
And aimed to have a perfect pity party trip.
You've got your buckets ready to collect the slightest drip.
Like an attention getting kitten,
Being petted as it purrs and licks!
That's what you need!
A boost to benefit.
Like the petting of a kitten getting enjoyment out of it.
To get a little bit of stroking before it leaves...
To meander off and drift.
Satisfied and pleased.
If you're on a weeping meter,
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
Maybe you just need some petting,
And some stroking too?
Oooo...
If you're on a weeping meter,
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
Maybe you just need some petting,
And some stroking too?
Oooo...
If you're on a weeping meter,
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You know, I'm confident before I go out and play a match that I know, you know, I've put in the work and like I feel confident that I am going to go out there and play well.
quote by Jennifer Capriati
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I feel very confident with the way I look. But I felt just as confident the way I looked before. I've always been confident with who I am.
quote by Ashlee Simpson
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Replacing Hackneyed Tradition Rhymes
slant rhyme
half rhyme
imperfect rhyme
deliberately
concentrated
on that style
on the themes
in work early
instead
of hackneyed
tradition
rhymes
detracting
subtle
or impact
concepts?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Out Running Time Poets
work published
altered significantly
to fit conventional
poetic rules of time
or published in purity
true feel of poet
an altered reality
verse meter beat?
unique for an era
short cryptic lines
slant rhythm rhyme
unconventional
capitalization
punctuation
themes of death
liberty immortality
two recurring topics
out running time poets
poem by Terence George Craddock
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0004 The world has lost the ear for rhyme
The world has lost the ear for rhyme.
It still makes children squirm with pleasure;
and from some witty pens and minds, its fireworks fizz;
so, after all these centuries of rhyme
and all the games of meter, dancing words,
should we now mourn its passing?
Have we lost the music of another world?
Instead, the easy unpretentious discourse,
sober, light, familiar, honest -
the world of daily, homely, shared sharp life,
that's now preferred. Not prose;
much more than 'chopped-up prose' as those may say
who think that poetry should be more visibly hard-earned;
- as if a human life set down in honesty
were not a poem in itself, unwrit;
'prose with enhanced consciousness' it's often now defined;
and consciousness - now that's earned, if you like...
and simile, and imagery, and metaphor - all the repertoire
of glorious poetry - they're all still here
to work their magic; if more played down, now,
unostentatious as T-shirt and jeans;
unostentatious as the beating, bloody heart.
And yet, when years bring tears
and time brings death and dying,
it's time for rhyme, to heal the heart
and charm away the crying.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Everything that Traffic ever did, I'd give Steve a complete lyric, titled, written out with the verse, the bridge, the shape and rhyme and then Steve had to figure out how the meter of the words would fit musically.
quote by Jim Capaldi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poet-Me
I sat me down
my Poet Me
for discipline's tight regime,
hollowing out clear intent
for syntax, line breaks and such.
Meter, Rhyme and Rhythm too
joined the group.
We discussed Constructs
and Literati.
'Now, I am in charge here' Poet said.
'everyone of you has a role.
At my pen
you'll line up
while I align your countenances.
Every poem like an orchestra,
needs a conductor,
the welder of Word and Form,
the rest of you are instruments
to play my minor chords'
'Well' said Rhythm, 'nothing fits
without me.
I am the heart-beat,
the sail upon the sea;
I am the up and down
nothing moves without me.'
'No' said Rhyme, 'I am the
music line, the melody sublime.
My efforts elicit;
guide the listener ship.
I am the note's completion.
With my friend Meter
we are the helm of this ship'
The Reader said 'No I am the ultimate.
I'm the Consumer of the Trade.
Who prevails in all of this
is only for me to say.'
'All of you are undisciplined,
are nothing, ' said Cacophony
'I'm the proof of that.'
'Where would you all be
without me? ' Emotion, said
who could barely constrain himself,
'no emotion no feeling, no poetry.
That's my motto.'
'No me, no me, ' rang out
and everyone talked all the same
Me, Poet Me and I,
had lost control
of them.
Til' at the door the familiar knock;
the owner of the house returning.
Figure quite imposing,
came in
sat down
thumping on the table.
'Everyone quiet down and listen up
here is what we are doing.'
In minutes all the quarrelsome brethren
lined up picture perfect.
Each took his place
sang his best
in the final orchestral poem.
Each time it goes this way.
I tend to forget.
Poet Me, I and all the rest
exist only in Imagination's mind
flowing.
in this the best
of all possible
poetically inspired
word, meter, rhythm and
syntax-governed
poetic worlds.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Alankar(Decor) -94
Rhythm(Enclosed Tercet)
An Enclosed Tercet is a 3 line verse
in which L1 and L3 rhyme, 'enclosing' an unrhymed L2,
rhyme scheme axa bxb etc. The lines may be written in any meter.
Rhythm
What rhythms He plies in His dance-
All of good and healing cosmic
That we presume in our good trance
What rhythms does She cohere fully
In trance to yield in profuse
That we consume haunted thoroughly
Perhaps His malady is Her melody
Sorry, should never talk ill of Them
It is Theirs, Their shared secret psalmody
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Words
My passion with a word
sometimes seems absurd.
How did it come?
Where is it from?
It's like it's been stored
and unexplored
for so long a time.
And then came the rhyme.
Now the words spill.
I can't get my fill.
The meter and sound
keeps me spellbound.
Using my pen
again and again
brings comfort and peace.
Let the words never cease.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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My Mind Is In a Poetic Meter
Lit with verse and profound imaginings.
Clear of limits and in boundless flight.
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Fixed within rhythmic thoughts combined.
And racing to attach themselves to the proper lines.
Picked with a selected taste to find,
Just the right mixture to release at the right time.
To capture a comprehension that is mutually shared.
And creating an understanding that before was not there.
Until it was produce to seduce,
To make aware.
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Lit with verse and profound imaginings.
Clear of limits and in boundless flight.
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Fixed within rhythmic thoughts combined.
And racing to attach themselves to the proper lines.
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Picked with a selected taste to find,
Just the right mixture to release at the right time.
To capture a comprehension that is mutually shared.
And creating an understanding that before was not there.
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Magic Locket
There's a wood nymph in my pocket
I keep her close to me
Around her neck a golden locket
For everyone to see
I know magic; and so does she
She stays close and watches me
I know magic
I know magic
The golden locket has a key
There's a wood nymph in my pocket
I only show a few
When the key goes in the sprocket
Just watch what it can do
I turn the key when it goes in
And then the room will start to spin
I turn the key
I turn the key
The magic starts and then I grin
There's a wood nymph in my pocket
She’ll never fly away
But she’s quick, just like a rocket
I saw her fly one day
The magic key will make me strong
I’ll rule the world, it won’t be long
The magic key
The magic key
So won’t you come and sing my song?
Author notes:
Trijan Refrain
The Trijan Refrain, created by Jan Turner, consists of three 9-line stanzas, for a total of 27 lines. Line 1 is the same in all three stanzas, although a variation of the form is not to repeat the same line at the beginning of each stanza. In other words, the beginning line of each stanza can be different. The first four syllables of line 5 in each stanza are repeated as the double-refrain for lines 7 and 8. The Trijan Refrain is a rhyming poem with a set meter and rhyme scheme as follows:
Rhyme scheme: a/b/a/b/c/c/d, d refrain of first 4 words of line five /c
Meter: 8/6/8/6/8/8/4,4 refrain/8
poem by Amera Andersen
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My Crime
I get lost in metaphor,
I'm confused with simile
Or what analogy is for,
Though I try some imagery.
I transgress with my meter
And force with my rhyme,
I guess as a writer
That is my true crime.
'A man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.'
...................................... ..........................July 23,2009 Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Neater meter for Mr Earley
Neater meter?
I have to write a sonnet in free verse.
I must stick to Iambic pentameter.
A meter that I do not often use.
Pentameter is my more usual style.
A Sapphic meter would be so much worse.
I am more comfortable with the latter.
I find that some odd metres can confuse
a simple rhymester like me for a while.
I’m quite convinced that pentameter
makes my presentations appear neater.
It may be that you think I am obtuse
and that my simple verses make you smile.
You are entitled to your point of view.
Naturally I won’t agree with you!
11-Apr-08
Free verse sonnet
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Who stands with me?
True poets write in meter.
Not because they think it’s neater
but because the flow is sweeter
When their words are read aloud
as they perform before the crowd.
Their poems pass the acid test.
Prose writers do not choose to rhyme.
They see it as a waste of time.
Although their word choice is sublime.
Without meter it is prose,
not poetry as they suppose.
Their definition I contest.
Poetic prose it’s plain to see.
Can not be classed as poetry.
I can accept you disagree.
I know I have a biased view
I think I am entitled to
Decide which one I like the best.
I choose meter every time
Preferably with lines that rhyme.
I find such poetry sublime.
Though I enjoy well written prose.
Each to his own I must suppose
So write the way that suits you best.
I am old fashioned I admit
and not one whit ashamed of it.
I do not find rules inhibit.
Free expression of my views
They merely mean I have to choose
the words that will express them best
Free form, free verse, poetic prose.
Are methods other writers chose
as being fit for their purpose.
To rebel against fixed form.
Which was regarded as the norm.
Just to be different from the rest.
But fashions change and now free form
Must be regarded as the norm.
I see no reason to conform.
I choose to write my poetry
In the old way that pleases me.
A lonely voice raised in protest.
The wheel of fate will slowly turn
Metered poetry will return
and well deserved plaudits earn.
I hope I live to see the day.
when classic poets can display.
That fixed forms can outshine the rest.
Monday,06 December 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Only one night.
Remember the verse
remember the rhyme.
Remember the meter
all set in a line.
Remember the story
from begining to end.
He is an old man
with a young friend.
Is it a kiss, or is it a lie.
Remember the verse
and always asked why.
Why is so
why is it right.
To become a poet
for only one night.
poem by Roy Storey
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