Poetic Licence
I've got Poetic Licence
Applied the other day
I took a little test you see
They said I was OK.
With this Poetic Licence
I now talk just in verse
But sometimes when out shopping
It feels like quite a curse.
Where some would say
'Tomatoes'
I find myself in rhyme
I ask for things at length you see
It sure eats up the time.
Not 'tomatoes' do I ask for
Nor a kilo and a half
I come out with some poem
I do get lots of laughs.
The other day was dreadful
I wanted some roast duck
But try and try as I might do
The rhyme came quite unstuck
The only word that came to me
Was really very rude
It rhymed with duck quite well you know
But didn't fit with food.
I stumbled and I stumbled
Said 'errrr' a hundred times
And ended up with sausages
For the 57th time.
'Why sausages? '
I hear you ask
It doesn't rhyme with much
But I've got into a habit that simplifies my task
I just say to the butcher
'Do you think I am a bore?
Can I have the very same
That I bought here before? '
Each day it's getting worse and worse
You see I like my beer
But try and try as I might do
It only rhymes with 'queer'.
I've given up on sandwiches
That really is too hard
And trying to buy Panadol
Would foil just any Bard.
I often think of Shakespeare
Wordsworth, Tennyson and Donne
When they went out shopping
Did they just go on and on?
Or were they simply better
And quicker on their toes
Did they just point somewhere
And ask for 'one of those'?
My Licence is provisional
I've only got P plates
I must get in more practice
And not procrastinate.
I should read up on some poets
Using more contemporary words
Maybe those guys from the West Coast
Like that howling man Ginsberg.
They didn't see the need to rhyme
Now that would free me up
They wrote in lower case as well
Now that's a bit of luck.
Their style's just right for emails
In this computer age
So I could buy my goods on line
And dissipate my rage.
Let's have a go with this right now
Now what shall I purchase
A pizza or a hamburger
Delivered to my place.
My God this is fantastic
This is going to be fun
I'll download lots of music
Buy some books from Amazon.
Now will there be some problems?
It doesn't seem that hard
Oh dear for now I've hit one
Using my credit card.
It has such a long number
That doesn't seem to rhyme
No wait I think I've got it
It will simply take more time.
Let's look at that long number now
It ends with 649
Now what on earth could rhyme with that?
Be quick and be on time?
I think this is a breakthrough
I've really cracked it mate
Maybe order some champagne
So I can celebrate.
Suddenly I'm feeling lonely
Well that’s fixed up real quick
I'll go to on-line dating
And chat up some nice chick.
This virtual life suits me
It suits my poetry
I'll never move outside my house
Live electronically.
What's that?
You find me boring?
My talking just in verse?
You think I find it easy?
You think I can't converse
In ordinary language
Well let me tell you straight
It's my total dedication
And desire to innovate
That drives me ever onwards
And makes me play with words
What's that I hear you say to me
You find me quite absurd?
Well let me tell you sunshine
This special and new craft
It marks me out from others
At whom you have to laugh.
It's my artistic mission
To boldly go to where
Wordsworth may have trifled
But I shall bravely dare
To turn this thing called poetry
Into a living tongue
Make other talk seem boring
And find that I belong
In the world of art and culture
Intellect and song.
Combin-ed with the internet
I'll let my message reach
All those happy surfers
Replacing normal speech.
Now, what shall I have for dinner?
Damn those delivery men
The fridge is almost empty
Oh dear, sausages again.
12 May 2004
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Moderns
To many reading modern poetry more interesting the meaning in the metaphors they seek to find
They feel it makes their brains work that much harder that it is good exercise for the mind
Rhyme for their great brains seems that bit too simple it does not test their thinking power at all
'Tis not a poem to them if it seems simple and the meaning in it easy to recall,
Yes rhyme for them it does seem that bit simple and deciphering it to them is not a test
The hidden meaning in the metaphors is something that does seem to try them best
Rhyme poetry to them is too simple and far too easy for to understand
It has to be blank verse with dozens of metaphors for their interest for to command
They look on rhyme and bush poets as inferior their preference in poets and poetry they make known
On literature they air their opinions like it is said to each their own
Their poetry evenings do seem quite exclusive rhyme poets to read they never do invite
Their unmusical lines that are laced with metaphors to each other they do recite
They do not like rhyme or they do not like bush poetry to them it is of another time
And in their poetry evenings there is no place for the men and the women of rhyme.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0007: 2007 - Year Of Revolting Poets
2007, he said, was a memorable year for poetry.
A world conference of poets held
somewhere NewMex way, came to the view
that the rhyming dictionary put altogether too
great a stricture on the structure
of verse, and worse;
it was time, for rhyme
(which came back into fashion
that year with a passion)
to be more relevant,
less of a white elephant;
so
all poets who
wrote in English
(including Strine)
were asked to define
what words should be allowed appropriately to rhyme.
It took a little time;
since they couldn’t agree about basic words
(some felt that ‘ words’ shouldn’t even rhyme with ‘turds’,
they thought that any such ditty
would be shitty;
some thought that such a possibility of rhyme was crap,
and would lead to poetic mishap)
So, first things first, what would be appropriate
to rhyme with love?
(which of course some pronounced luv,
others, lurve) :
some felt that rhyming it with ‘above’
had just a smidgen
of politically inappropriate reference to religion…
* * *
The whole idea was well meant
but you can see just how it went –
it took until 3006
even just to fix
after long debate upon it,
fourteen rhyming words to cover one suitable sonnet
by which time
those celebrated poets who did or didn’t rhyme,
while English tended to vanish,
were writing in Spanish
or Chinese;
bringing American-language poetry to its knees.
then vowelless txt
became the nxt
style
for a while
(which left poetry weakened,
bcs t cdnt b spknd) …
* * *
But I’ll have to cease this sorry tale;
I’ve a Hallmark card I need to mail.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Most Of The So Called Literary Experts
Most of the so called literary experts are dismissive of rhyme
They say 'tis the poetry of a long gone time
Yet the poets that they laud the poems they do write
Cannot be put to music and are hard to read and recite
The rhymer of today is not looked on as a poet
Or is not seen as one worthy of literary note
By the so called literary experts with literary degrees
Though their judgement on what is or is not poetry not everyone does please
They never will convince the old style rhyme buff
To him or her well written rhyme is not throw away stuff
In well written rhyme are the words to a song
And good rhyming poetry to music belong
Yet the degreed literary experts who on poetry like to have their say
Dismiss rhyming poets and their poetry as of yesterday.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Line By Line
Writing line by line
Can i capture the truth in rhyme
You tell me okay its fine
Whats fine my writings or the rhymes
Have you read enough this time
Rhyme line rhyme
Am i wasting my time
Do i even comprehend
The thoughts the static static
Inside my head
I send a piece to a friend
Or are they scared to offend
I need to know if its rubbish
Putting it out there to be published
Rhyme line verse
Do you speak the truth or were you coerced
So im taking you at your word
You have listened you heard
Line by line
Rhyme by rhyme
Can i be convicted of poetry crimes
For writing dribble
About nothing as long as it rhymes
Well thank you my friend
Here is another i am about to send
Read it and read it again
Maybe you can send on to a friend
Okay time to go
I have more pieces of dribble you know
Poetry Obsession
I have been writing poetry for just over a year;
That I love poetry, I guess, it's perfectly clear.
My output, to date, has been really quite prolific.
I feel pleased with my work, but it's not terrific.
Now is the time for me to make a confession:
For me, poetry has become a bit of an obsession!
Now I find that, sometimes when I speak,
My sentences unintentionally rhyme! Eeek!
My poems total over three hundred in number;
Sometimes, composing them affects my slumber.
Of my poetry, I admit I feel really rather proud,
But I feel way too shy to read them out aloud.
Often, when I'm out walking, or I'm sat on a train,
Ideas will manifest themselves deep in my brain.
I often find myself spending quite some time,
Pondering the two factors of rhythm and rhyme.
My poems all rhyme: I don't write in ‘free verse':
In unrhymed poetry, myself, I just can't immerse.
To me, poetry which rhymes seems more precise:
It has a better finish, and it just sounds, well, nice!
At my poems online, people have been gazing,
But I would disagree that my work is ‘amazing'.
From all over the world, I am quite often sent
From fellow poets, some encouraging comments.
I have chosen some of my poems to put in a book;
My local bookshop is selling it! Please take a look!
I was thrilled when they agreed to sell it in-store;
They sold the entire first batch, and asked for more!
My dream job is to become a really famous writer;
I know it's a tough journey, but I'm a real fighter.
For sitting, writing poetry, I would love to get paid:
Maybe, if I keep plodding onwards, I will one day!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Song That Didn't Rhyme
Wrote a song, it was wrong from it's very first conception
Seemed I struggled on every line
It wasn't fast, wasn't pretty, wasn't serious or witty
The song that didn't rhyme
The band couldn't wing it, the singer couldn't sing it
The drummer's always out of time
The DJ's were offended, my union card suspended
Billboard declared it a crime
The melody blows in a key that no one can find
The lyrics don't flow but I can't get it out of my mind
A three minute waste of your time
On a song that didn't rhyme
It was bland, it was boring, all the groupies they were snoring
The first time we played it live
All the record guys got fired, the president retired
But somehow the song survived
The melody blows in a key that no one can find
The lyrics don't flow but I can't get it out of my mind
The melody blows in a key that no one can find
The lyrics don't flow but I can't get it out of my mind
A three minute waste of your time
No redeeming value of any kind
But thanks for the twelve ninety nine
On a song that didn't rhyme
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song Of A Rhyming Man
I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
This modern verse too much for me it's way above my head
Though modern poets are now the rage and Rhyme is with the dead.
I love the sound of rhyming words, I love the verse that rhyme
To blank or free or non rhyme verse prefer it every time
And there's many who will disagree and most will say I'm wrong
But give me ballad or rhyme verse or good old rhyming song.
You may say I am limited and with you most will agree
That I'm not into modern verse of twenty first century
But I've been an old style rhyming man since nineteen seventy three
And I am in my sixties now and there's no changing me.
I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
And I am guilty of no sin and I can't see no crime
In liking sound of rhyming verse and loving words that rhyme
poem by Francis Duggan
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Rhyme
Poets rhyme from time to time
They don’t find rhyme a crime
It’s no sin, their using rhyme
Inspired rhyme is so sublime
Can often form a perfect line
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Quiet Rap for Poetry Teachers
Words, they ‘mean’ – just, what they do;
and a poem means – just what it does;
if it doesn’t do a single thing for you –
that’s it, for now; let’s cut the fuzz…
it may be called ‘the greatest’ poem;
it may be utterly true;
but if it doesn’t do one little thing for you -
just put it aside for another time;
and let's all rap'n'clap this memorable rhyme:
'poems ‘ mean’ – simply – what they DO…
(1,2,3, and...) ...for ME..(5,6..) ......for YOU! '....
and that’s the end of my poetic beef –
I hope you find that some relief..
so rap it with me, all of you:
“ POEMS MEAN – JUST WHAT THEY DO! ! “
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why are we addicted to Poetry?
We Poets who write,
All day or all night,
That Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
There’s scarce a moment in time,
That thoughts don’t find words in rhyme,
To put into verse,
Whether better or worse,
In that Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why do we write all these Verses?
We must have better things to do,
But whatever we try,
And I don’t know why,
We write Poem upon Poem for you.
It’s funny how my style has changed,
It’s a Limerick today I’ve composed,
It wasn’t meant to be,
But it is ~ you can see,
Just Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
© Yisroel Yonatan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 26 January 2006
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
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Why the F*#k didn't we think of that?
Why Didn’t we Think Of That!
Guess I got to admit it, I’m past my prime
Not nearly as quick-witted as I used to be
Appears to be a monumental waste of my time
Just tryin’ to write some decent poetry
Maybe I’m overthinking’ the point of rhyme
Maybe I’m trustin’ too much to luck
Hell I’m gonna forget about prose so fine
And start artlessly usin’ that magic word f&%k
The effort involved in finding that perfect phrase
Laboriously working to find that rhyme that feels pat
Hell I could have been usin’ that magic word all these days
So, tell me fellow poets…why didn’t we all think of that?
poem by David Whalen
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Times A' Tickin'
Its half past forever...
And i'm wastin' no more time--
I gotta get through...
Your reason and your rhyme;
Gotta make sense--
Of the things that you do--
Gotta find answers...
To the enigma thats you;
Its half past forever--
And i'm wastin' no more time--
I gotta get through...
Your reason and your rhyme;
Gotta try to understand...
Why your heart is so cold--
Gotta find out...
Before i get too old;
Tell ya i been tryin' so hard...
To figure out just what makes you tick...
Gotta find the answer---
Before it makes me sick;
Its half past forever--
And i'm wastin' no more time---
I gotta get through...
Your reason and your rhyme;
Tell ya i've never known--
Such a hate filled guy...!
Gotta find out...
Your reasons-and your why;
'Cause its make or break time...
For me and for you--
Gotta settle this one pronto...
Or we will be through;
Its half past foever--
And i'm wastin' no more time--
I gotta get through...
Your reason and all of your rhyme;
Gotta find out...
Just what makes ya tick...
Gotta find out...
Before it makes me sick;
Song Lyrics
May 30,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Rhyming Flu
It’s 1: 15 A.M.
I’m sitting here in bed;
I want to go to sleep,
But rhymes are in my head.
I just came upstairs;
I was just on the com,
Working out a poem;
For Ainaa to recite in the morn.
The problem with rhyme and I;
Is that it starts and never stops,
Remember it’s one o’clock;
But rhymes still pulse my thoughts.
So I’m writing this very rhyme;
Hoping my rhyme runs out,
But such a hope’s impossible;
When my rhymes are as abundant as trout.
I know what you all are thinking:
“This rhyme is simply a gimmick;
This boy’s not really sleepy,
He’s wide awake with this limerick.”
“This story of sleep is really;
Just some tricky plot,
To make you think he flows out rhyme;
Like water from a cracked pot.”
But, nay, it is true;
I’ve got the rhyming flu,
I’m hoping that by writing this rhyme;
All my rhymes shall be through.
Aha, I know the cure;
The medicine’s no longer obscure!
To end this awful rhyme;
I need a word that does NOT rhyme!
I’ve heard of the word before;
It’s like English’s Achilles heel,
No matter how hard you rhyme;
Its un-rhyming-ness is an iron veil.
Touché now rhyming flu;
This word I give to you!
Try rhyming the word ‘month’
…Ha-ha, you can’t now, can you! ?
The rhyming flu has left me…
I can feel it leaving my mind…
Ahhh… I am so relieved…
The clock says it’s now sleepy time...
…zZzZZZ
poem by Warren Chan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Poetry Critics
Our poetry critics ageing males on saturday evenings from six to nine
Meet at the literary room of the Lions Club to do what suits them fine
To talk of poetry and poets each to their point of view
Though they agree on one thing that good poets only few.
Well educated gents of course and they could not be rude
But contemporary rhyme poets only poetasters and them they exclude
From their talk of poets and poetry and in their literary knowledge they take pride
And who is or who is not a poet seems their right to decide.
They never talk about bush poets such verse they see as slipshod
And they see them as the children of the lesser poetry god
And for their years in Uni they have their degrees to show
And of poets and of poetry so much they think they know.
To them a poem is not a poem unless it reads like prose
And a ballad different from true verse as a weed is from a rose
And true poets only write for the privileged few that's what they do imply
And never for the ordinary, people like you and I.
Our poetry critics at the Lions they meet on saturday
And who is a good poet and what is a good poem each like to have their say
And if you wish to become a member of their club you must have your Uni Degrees
For if not to them you are not qualified for to talk about poetry.
poem by Francis Duggan
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No More Rhyme
Verse 1:
When the fear sets in
Where the fire burns
Where I find a place
Where theres nowhere to turn
When the evening sings
An eerie song
Longing for the day
You say Im wrong
Verse 2:
You can find your place
But never fit in
And only when youve left
Do you know where youve been
I can see the light
But only when its gone
You can go on waiting
But only for so long (so long, so long)
Chorus:
I know we are right
Its not always clear
Because Ive never felt the fear
Can it stay so good
Forever in time?
Ive always felt the rhythm
What happens when
Theres no more rhyme?
Verse 3:
Can we face ourselves
Like we face each other?
Weve never felt anything
On our own
I cant wait much longer
To feel any danger
I hope were not living for
A lifetime alone
Chorus
Bridge:
Hard to go on
Its like waiting for
The other shoe to drop
Ill never stop
Believing in you
Its just we never had to struggle
It all came too easy
I hope we felt what we felt from the start
Weve never suffered a broken heart
Weve been so blinded by all the best
We never put our love to the test (to the test)
Ive always felt the rhythm
What happens when
Theres no more rhyme?
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0338 Just couldn't hack it
A hard writing I had of it;
the words clumsy, the sense banal...
escaping from rhyme isn't easy;
half a lifetime to work up to it
then like skirt length, that's it,
the line's short this season,
and rhyme is, so, like, so last year...
(and must be insincere
if you have to work at it
or even want to)
so there I was in the
midst of getting the
hang of cutting the line at the
best place for the
sense, to avoid the
artificial on the
one hand and the
banal on the
other -the
art that conceals the
art -
and scenting euphony, when suddenly -
a crash - and in there lumbered - 'woodenly'...
I twigged instantly that it wouldn't
go without a struggle;
and called in Suddenly for questioning -
had they some sort of pact in the recesses of my mind -
kissin' cousins, blood brothers, partners in rhyme?
Suddenly denied this vigorously -
never been asked such a question before,
wouldn't want to associate etc.;
a word only used by theatre critics...
So I sighed and threw out my neatly chopped prose,
spontaneity, jokes, and anything goes;
and returned to meaningful old-fashioned verse
so woodenly crafted - well, poets have done worse.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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My Rhyming Poem
I am 55 and a little crazy,
If I stand up to fast things become a little hazy.
I need another line,
I am really in a bind.
So early in my rhyme,
I've really messed up this time.
Hey this is kinda fun,
Reminds me of good old days in the sun.
This time I have really lost my wits,
Man this surly is the pits.
Some day I'll get this down,
Or Saint will take me to the pound.
With blue juice he'll say,
Baby you just couldn’t rhyme so this is your day,
The day I do this often,
Is the day I lay in my coffin.
I hope all of this rhyme’s,
Because GOD knows I have tried 100 times.
I think I might have been a tard,
My first rhyming poem really wasn’t that hard.
(this goes to all my friends and readers on here to show you I really cant rhyme but this was fun maybe I will do it again I said maybe Saint Maybe lol... I Love you guys)
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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An Amateur Penner Is All I Can Be
An amateur penner is all I can be and my worth as a rhymer I doubt
But when you tell me there's music in blank verse I wonder what you are on about
I've always thought music has rhythm and rhyme and is married to rhyming song
But of literature and music I am not a judge and maybe I do have it wrong
The music in good rhyming poetry one sense at least that's how it does seem to me
But I'm leaving room for an argument here and some with me may not agree
But that's my opinion make of it what you may we all look at things differently
If we all looked at life in the very same way how dull and boring we would be
Some will tell you a songwriter is not a poet their opinion on that is different to mine
Like some are very happy to welcome the rain and some want the day warm and fine
You tell me that there is music in blank verse though I cannot see it that way
But your opinion on the matter is as good as mine and with me that is quite okay
Oh give me a song that is built of good rhyme that to music is easy to sing
With such I am happy for to sing along and I find it such a joyful thing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Make yourself at home for Friend Thad
I keep stored in my library
a treasury of poetry.
These riches I’m prepared to share
with anyone who visits there.
They’re sure to find something to please
somewhere in my anthologies.
They’ll find great poets from the past.
Whose golden words were writ to last.
Philosophy and high romance
or choose at a random take a chance.
They’ll find more formal verse than free
but I think I can guarantee.
Theres something there to suit your taste
just take your time no need for haste.
If your inspired and wish to write
the desk is placed to catch the light.
The only rule you must obey
is do not take my books away.
Through hard experience I have learned
that borrowed books are not returned.
If you should choose to visit me
you’ll find me in my library.
That’s where I spend most of my time
composing metred verse in rhyme.
22-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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