Muhammad Ali
A clerihew is a whimsical, four-line biographical poem invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley. The lines are comically irregular in length, and the rhymes, often contrived, are structured AABB.
Muhammad Ali
who stung like a mad bee
And floated like a butterfly;
then punched you in the eye.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Related quotes
Martin Luther King (Clerihew verse-form)
Martin Luther King was not a king.
He did not have horses, a crown, or anything.
He preached a lot and had a dream
Of everybody eating ice cream.
The following poem is in the Clerihew verse-form, which was invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley, author of Trent’s Last Case, the perfect murder mystery. It consists of two rhymed couplets. The first couplet usually (can also be the second couplet) includes the name of a famous person. The other lines contain a characteristic, real or fictional, of the person.
poem by Ben Gieske
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Edmund Clerihew Bently (clerihew)
Edmund Clerihew Bently
is suddenly from his writing free,
hears someone on the radio sing,
decides a whimsical poem is just the thing.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The art of biography is different from geography. Geography is about maps, but biography is about chaps.
quote by Edmund Clerihew Bentley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clerihews
I
Edmund Clerihew Bentley
lampooned illuminati intently:
his quatrains on names, with a closing flick,
liberated burlesque from limerick.
II
Ezra Loomis Pound
wrote cantos polyglot and profound:
cognoscenti find them tinglish,
even some collaged in English.
poem by William F Dougherty
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The Forgetting Wide
Everyday I go outside
And stare into the wide
It's not until I notice the sun setting
I know school is one thingI can't be forgetting!
This poem is called a clerihew poem. I wrote my poem like this because I like to go outside, and sometimes, when I see the sun setting, I realize it's time to start getting ready for school!
poem by Isabella Badger
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Butterfly...
Butterfly...my all..my own, Butterfly
My butterfly, I remember the
day we met. You bumped into me.
Well, sort of floated, from no where,
and from that moment, I recall what
I said, 'Well, my little butterfly,
where did you come from.?
Butterfly, you laughed, and responded,
'I picked you out, and just floated down,
and landed on your shoulder.
Butterfly, there are many that think
that a Butterfly, can't laugh, but you did.
They think that a Butterfly, does not cry,
but you have.
Can a Butterfly be happy, cause happiness?
Butterfly, of mine...you did.
Can a Butterfly, caused one to nearly burst
with joy? Butterfly, you did and you have.
Butterfly, there is not a moment, since I
met you, that I can not recall.
Some might wonder what a butterfly, drinks.
Butterfly, shall we let them know, we became
intoxicated, as we sipped the nectar of life.
As my butterfly and I floated through the
wonders of earth, I wish we could share the
joy we found, with all of this planet.
Butterfly, shall we always be together?
Butterfly, I do not mean, just here on
earth, I mean until the stars stop shinning.
Butterfly, I mean, until there is no moon...
no anything, but my Butterfly and I.
Butterfly...I think that we will. Butterfly,
I believe that we were meant to be.
On Wing and Wind...
My butterfly, I remember the
day we met. You bumped into me.
Well, sort of floated, from no where,
and from that moment, I recall what
I said, 'Well, my little butterfly,
where did you come from.?
Butterfly, you laughed, and responded,
'I picked you out, and just floated down,
and landed on your shoulder.
Butterfly, there are many that think
that a Butterfly, can't laugh, but you did.
They think that a Butterfly, does not cry,
but you have.
Can a Butterfly be happy, cause happiness?
Butterfly, of mine...you did.
Can a Butterfly, caused one to nearly burst
with joy? Butterfly, you did and you have.
Butterfly, there is not a moment, since I
met you, that I can not recall.
Some might wonder what a butterfly, drinks.
Butterfly, shall we let them know, we became
intoxicated, as we sipped the nectar of life.
As my butterfly and I floated through the
wonders of earth, I wish we could share the
joy we found, with all of this planet.
Butterfly, shall we always be together?
Butterfly, I do not mean, just here on
earth, I mean until the stars stop shinning.
Butterfly, I mean, until there is no moon...
no anything, but my Butterfly and I.
Butterfly...I think that we will. Butterfly,
I believe that we were meant to be.
Greenhouse Gas (Triolet)
The features of the Triolet are:
· 8 lines.
· Two rhymes.
· 5 of the 8 lines are repeated or refrain lines.
· First line repeats at the 4th and 7th lines.
· Second line repeats at the 8th line.
· Rhyme scheme (where an upper-case letter indicates the appearance of an identical line, while a lower-case letter indicates a rhyme with each line designated by the same lower-case or upper-case letter) :
A
B
a - Rhymes with 1st line.
A - Identical to 1st line.
a - Rhymes with 1st line.
b - Rhymes with 2nd line.
A - Identical to 1st line.
B - Identical to 2nd line.
***********************
Our blue marble is imperiled
Due to excessive CO2
Like being over a barrel.
Our blue marble is imperiled.
Greenhouse gas, it's our funeral
the solutions long overdue.
Our blue marble is imperiled
Due to excessive CO2.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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The Poem I Am Writing Now
The poem I am writing now
does not know if it will be finished
it does not even know if it will be a poem -
it is slowly appearing line by line
and making its own meaning on the page-
Is it worth anything?
will anyone care?
I don't know -
The poem I am writing now
is just these lines
and these lines like all lines
are only small words
in a vast universe
that has long lived
and will probably longer live
without them.
Why then write these words now?
The poem I am writing now is saying,
'I am here now'.
But why should this mean anything to anyone else?
The poem I have written here
is not the poem I would have posted here
It is only the poem I am finishing now
a poem without great love or belief in itself.
The poem I am writing now
is written.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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War at Home
Ever since they took him away,
to fight that God forsaken war.
I daydream in our fields all day.
They took the man that I adore.
Gazing across the windswept grass
and waiting for the time to pass.
The memory of times before,
they took the man that I adore.
I know he’ll walk across that field
with battle wounds yet still unhealed.
My broken heart can take no more,
they took the man that I adore.
Ever since they took him away,
they took the man that I adore.
Author Notes:
Kyrielle Sonnet
A Kyrielle Sonnet consists of 14 lines (three rhyming quatrain stanzas and a non-rhyming couplet) . Just like the traditional Kyrielle poem, the Kyrielle Sonnet also has a repeating line or phrase as a refrain (usually appearing as the last line of each stanza) . Each line within the Kyrielle Sonnet consists of only eight syllables. French poetry forms have a tendency to link back to the beginning of the poem, so common practice is to use the first and last line of the first quatrain as the ending couplet. This would also re-enforce the refrain within the poem. Therefore, a good rhyming scheme
for a Kyrielle Sonnet would be: AabB, ccbB, ddbB, AB -or- AbaB, cbcB, dbdB, AB.
poem by Amera Andersen
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The First Line Is Heard From Somewhere Else
The first line is heard from somewhere else
The second line builds on it
And the third and those after
Until another stanza begins
That says in an easier and more focused way
What the first stanza struggled for-
The poem ends when it ends
Not knowing always if it has ended-
For the poem must be rewritten line by line once again
And perhaps too within it it will fail in indecision
As the end often does.
The last line is heard from all the other lines
But sometimes I hear too much
And sometimes not enough
And often I do not know
If it is right
But there are times
When the last line brings all the other lines together
And the end is the one end there should be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Day What Future Will It Bring (Kyrielle Sonnet)
This day what future will it bring.
What songs will we finally sing?
Snow quietly gracing the ground.
There will then come a silent sound.
We will be skating on the pond
And ev'ry one will form a bond.
By crackling fire we'll gather round.
There will then be a silent sound.
No recipe will we follow
Flitting the night with the swallows.
We'll form a ring around, around.
There will then come a silent sound.
This day what future will it bring.
There will then come a silent sound.
- Ben Gieske, March 5,2008
*
A Kyrielle Sonnet consists of 14 lines (three rhyming quatrain stanzas and a non-rhyming couplet) . Just like the traditional Kyrielle poem, the Kyrielle Sonnet also has a repeating line or phrase as a refrain (usually appearing as the last line of each stanza) . Each line within the Kyrielle Sonnet consists of only eight syllables. French poetry forms have a tendency to link back to the beginning of the poem, so common practice is to use the first and last line of the first quatrain as the ending couplet. This would also re-enforce the refrain within the poem. Therefore, a good rhyming scheme for a Kyrielle Sonnet would be: AabB, ccbB, ddbB, AB -or- AbaB, cbcB, dbdB, AB.
poem by Ben Gieske
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A day without a poem
this is a day without a poem,
but it begins like a poem,
flows like a poem,
strikes like a poem,
sucks like a poem,
and ends like a poem.
(and there is me, contrived by this poetic motion.)
poem by Celine Charcoal
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What Make A Poem A Poem?
What makes a poem a poem
Is it the story it tells
The feeling it sells.
what makes a poem a poem
is it the history it shows
or the letters of word flow
do the lines mater it they rhyme
or not, can it be free verse of
abcabc line schem,
What makes a poem a poem
is it the words i repeat
Or the emotion they cove.
What makes a poem a poem
Poem about Poetry - I know how God writes his poem
i know how god writes his poem
it is in the delicate, artistic and
defining lines of every flower
petals, pistil, stamen, pollens,
fragrant and scents that fill the air
i know how god writes his poem
it is in the ray of the sun
that reveals their metaphors
and rhymes in the rain
an arc over the clear blue sky
i know how god writes his poem
it is in your eyes, two lakes of honey
that sail me into your warm saccharine world
dilating and constricting to let them
speak more volume to my my lovelorn heart
i know how god writes his poem
it is in the dazzling lines of the sea
that shows the sky how many ways
it can define and redefine itself
it is in the breeze that pulls off a dancer
twirling towards me in every direction
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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When You Read This
when you read this
poem, i am letting you know
that i still care,
when you continue reading on
the next line
you are letting me know
what i still know
that you still care for me too
and then you are angry
about how presumptuous can i be
and so i make another line
and another line and if you continue reading
more of these lines
in this poem
you are letting me know
that you are still angry about
my untimely departure
that moment when love was
still strong
when desire was at its peak
and then you think things over
how you have been
unwittingly betrayed by my words
and you keep on
reflecting if these lines still
say the same
meanings and i keep on writing
more lines
hoping that you will understand
what i have not said
because i cannot say them
because my self
cannot lie by saying them to
you because i do not wish to
hurt you because i still
love you and then i write lines
that ask
if you still love me but then
i must put an end to all
these useless writing
time has spoken
as the lines of fate and
destiny still have it
we were never meant for
each other
the love is there
the bodies still alive
our hands never reach
till then
perhaps in the next life
at the right moment
perhaps when
our parallel lives meet
at some point
of convergence
and as you read let me put
the last line: goodbye
May God make us
meet and love again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grey Grey Morning
GREY GREY MORNING
Grey grey morning
Purim again
Where to begin?
A poem is not just any words-
A poem needs a music of its own-
A beauty-
Lines that are memorable.
A poet cannot just be
What one happens to see and feel
At the moment
A poem must have lines which others will remember.
Grey grey morning
Purim again
Another poem about a poem
Is there one line here worth remembering?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Alankar(Decor) -63
Just In A Minute (Minute Poem)
The Minute Poem is:
a 12 line Poem made up of 3 quatrains.
syllabic, L1 8 syllables and L2-L3- L4-4 syllables each.
rhymed, rhyme scheme of aabb ccdd eeff.
A flash of memory in fills-
There the pupils
Of my old school
Quite bored and cool-
It was the day's last period
Pupils were tired
Just third class kids
With shut eye lids-
One naughty boy of higher class
Slipped out from class
Like a bad thief
Did the mischief
Rang the bell before closing time
Stirred school in rhyme
Dispersed early
Hurry-scurry
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Only Poem Is The Poem/ At The Moment Of Its Writing
THE ONLY POEM IS THE POEM
The only poem is the poem
At the moment of its writing
The poem being lived now
The poem I am trying to make
The poem of these lines.
The only poem now is this one-
And this poem is so small and so self- reflexive
That it is not much of a poem at all.
The only poem is not much of a poem at all
This one
And me now? .
But what about everything else I have not done?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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