I don't like Lines that Rhyme
In my lines
They all think
I rhyme,
But I cry.
I cry
For lost
Of my right.
In my mind
I know I don't
Like lines
That rhyme.
All I know
I'm not afraid
To die
For my right,
Cause if today
I die
Tomorrow
I shall rise.
With Christ
I shall fly.
As was profesied.
Tho' I don't like
To write
And my
Lines
Don't rhyme
But my love for
You is no lie.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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My Ageing Poem
A simple poem I wanted to write
The words were so clear in my mind
But my fingers were numb and sore
Lift a pencil they can't at all
Before a few lines write I could
With my signpen wrestle I should
I tried to read my scribbles
And asked my self how did I fare
The words I saw were all in blur
And were in badly crooked lines
I have but lost my metering
And all my lines did hardly rhyme
My next poems shall not be written
And in my thought will just remain
Be unrecited as they may
Till in my mind they fade away
poem by Pacific Hernandez
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Poem of the Ageing
A simple poem I wanted to write
The words were so clear in my mind
But my fingers were numb and sore
Lift a pencil they can't at all
Before a few lines write I could
With my signpen wrestle I should
I tried to read what I've written
And asked my self how did I fare
The words I saw were all in blur
And were in badly crooked lines
I have but lost my metering
And all my lines did hardly rhyme
My next poems shall not be written
And in my thought will just remain
Be unrecited as they may
Till in my mind they fade away
poem by Pacific Hernandez
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I turn On
I turn on,
My love.
Chidinma
My love,
She's so sure
It has gone wrong.
And my song,
It is so long.
Chidinma,
Please don't
Get me wrong.
My love
Has been so pure.
Don't cry
For someday I'll die
I just want to
Give my best
Till the day
I go to rest.
Had Homer
Been my tutor
Perhaps my lines
Would not
Have been so wrong.
Had Milton not
Been so blinded,
Perhaps his lines
Might not have
Been so dictated.
Had Soyinka not
Been so imprisoned
Perhaps the man
Wouldn't have died.
If Biafrans had not
Been so starved,
Perhaps the war
Would not
Have been so lost
And they all know
I don't like lines
Than rhyme.
But till the day I die
I will be by your side.
Someday I know
I'll rise and fly
With Christ.
Chidinma,
Let us now
Talk of our love
I have not been
So in love before
Never knew
How it feels
To love
And in turn
Be loved
By this girl I saw
But now I know
Chidinma
Your love
Is best of all.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Why Do I Write Poetry?
Why do I write Poetry?
The answer is not plain to see,
As a Legal Cashier I earn my Living,
For me and my family.
Why do I write Poetry?
Thoughts come to me in rhyme and verse,
They have to be worked on continually
To make those lines seem terse.
Why do I write Poetry?
One day HE’ll answer me,
Hopefully while I’m on this Earth,
Before I reach Eternity.
Why do I write Poetry?
Why must my lines scan and rhyme?
Not only on this occasion,
But forever, and all the time.
Why do I write Poetry?
Why put them on your website?
To leave my Thoughts and Visions of Life,
To you all and posterity.
© Jonathan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 9 April 2005
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
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Censored
I can’t think of an intro
For the poem I have in mind
Stop teasing me, my dear
I want the feeling to be in rhyme
Don’t make me lose my words
Don’t kiss me here and there
I can’t concentrate, I can’t create
My man you’re so hot tonight
Ok, I’ll turn off the computer now
Wait, I’ll just highlight these words
To save the thoughts for tomorrow
I swear I’ll continue these lines
‘Cause I know I will have
A better piece, a better rhyme
poem by Rose de Ramar
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Tear Tram Lines
This town has lost its sparkle,
The stars have lost their shine,
This town’s too full of echoes,
And my face too full of lines.
The shore has lost its tide,
The waves have lost their rhyme,
This town’s too full of tears,
And my smile too full of lines.
The clock has stopped it’s ticking
My feet dance out of time,
This town’s too full of yesterdays,
And my frown too full of lines
The cinema’s showing it’s last reel,
The pubs have all called time,
This towns too full of actors
And my script too full of unread lines….
Words
Someone and someone were down by the pond
Looking for something to plant in the lawn.
Out in the fields they were turning the soil
Im sitting here hoping this water will boil
When I look through the windows and out on the road
Theyre bringing me presents and saying hello.
Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
If I was a junkman selling you cars,
Washing your windows and shining your stars,
Thinking your mind was my own in a dream
What would you wonder and how would it seem?
Living in castles a bit at a time
The king started laughing and talking in rhyme.
Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My First Sonnet
If I’m to write and form a little song
I’ll choose to use the English code and rules
I’ll learn the laws to lay my bricks along
The roads I build of codes with English tools
Now two will rhyme with four and one with three
I’ll split the rhyme between the stanza breaks
The last two lines will rhyme a final plea
With glee that creeps in hands of codes I make
Iambics boast control as they decide
The words to run as feet conduct the line
I’ll snare the code that hides along and strides
In quatrains forming claims of codes that shine
I’m here alas to weave and write my fun
I’m taught I’ve learned and now my sonnet’s done
poem by Paul Moosberg
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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
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On Freedoms Lost
ON FREEDOMS LOST
On freedoms lost we dwell, unease,
in rhyme where lines aligned display
reality is rare disease
our children suffer: End of play.
The threat of ‘terror’ some invent -
on freedom lost we dwell, unease,
who’ll circumvent blind government? -
reality is rare disease.
Habeus Corpus handcuffed lies
in rhyme where lines aligned display
ephemeris, Death severs ties
from which all suffer: End of play.
retourne written 15 January 2007
robi03_1571_robi03_0000 XXX_JXX
Poem © Jonathan Robin On Freedoms Lost
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Dust to Dust We Go
DUST TO DUST WE GO
Dawn saw fame borne away to flame no more
Undone our time, light's boon, for dust bests fun -
Sun's one hour rhyme, - night's soon sure, rust rests run.
Torn core, aims shorn, waylays true name so poor.
Thorn store shames born day's plays, few claim crow - chore
Once spun power mimes fight, loon scores crust, jest done.
Dunce - shun tower chimes' rite, noon whores' lust, gest stun.
Unpure frame, worn, frays, pays - too tame, shows flaw.
Scorn pour, lame mourn, praise phase new, game grows bore,
Turns tunnel dower, limelight’s floor just crest dun.
Won shone flower rimes, trite croon caw bust, Quest? none!
End: forlorn blame gaze stays acclaim, slows roar.
Glory for soul, some say life sends gold key,
Or we poor, sole, dumb pray strife ends, goal flee.
28 April 2009 Acrostic Sonnet DUST TO DUST WE GO
robi03_1887_robi03_0000 AQS_CDZ
NOTES:
Rhyme ABBA ABBA ABBA CC
most syllables in A lines rhyme with corresponding syllables in other A lines
most syllables in B lines rhyme with corresponding syllables in other B lines
final couplet all syllables rhyme
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Time Lines
i have said nothing for time wont allow me.
time lines... time lines... time lines, what i felt for you has turned to confusion.
as time lines up our times together worry overshadows my 'influenced' judgement.
time lines..
our future perfectly sealed for i filled my heart with your promises.
time outlined your feelings for me..
times we spent together seem so far away like the times of the early bud.
our love has lost its will to florish like juliets rose.
time has outlined my affection for you.
time lines.. time lines..
the memories we once cherished together, the lines that have been put between us by time have destroyed the love once shared by you and me.
time has been thought to mend broken hearts ALAS, it has made matters worse.
time lines me and you. time lined our fate through spectatr critiques.
we possess souls joint together by time, YET its time that divides us.
time took its tole on our love.
is this forbidden love? that time has outlined
time lines my emotions of love for you..
time lines my emtions.
time lines.... time lines
poem by Njube Nangamso
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If I Write A Few Lines
IF I WRITE A FEW LINES
If I write a few lines
My mind will open
My heart will take heart
I will begin to believe in myself again.
If I write a few lines
I will say that I still somewhere am alive,
Writing these lines
In such deep deep sadness and trouble,
I try
And word by word
Squeeze out a bit of Hope.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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Who You Are To Me
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If You Read These Lines This Morning
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines that are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
i, who is nothing to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet- Sonnet Needs Rhymes
Can you a Sonnet write without its rhyme?
Now people want the modern verse that's free;
As ideas get stuck and cramped with time,
A Sonnet's like leafless branches of tree!
A Sonnet's great for men who rhyme too well;
Its beauty lives in metre, rhythm, rhyme;
Yet, it can never run into 'pel-mel';
The sonneteer can write in any clime.
Why abhor rhymes and not a Sonnet write?
Each genre has its rules to comply with;
Why sleep all day and stay awake all night?
Rhyme-play is done by Kindergarden kith!
Why ridicule something you can't do well,
Much things are done by practice, Sonnets tell.
poem by John Celes
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
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To a Vers Librist
"Oh bard," I said, "your verse is free;
The shackles that encumber me,
The fetters that are my obsession,
Are never gyves to your expression.
"The fear of falsities in rhyme,
In metre, quantity, or time,
Is never yours; you sing along
Your unpremeditated song."
"Correct," the young vers librist said.
"Whatever pops into my head
I write, and have but one small fetter:
I start each line with a capital letter.
"But rhyme and metre--Ishkebibble!--
Are actually negligible.
I go ahead, like all my school,
Without a single silly rule."
Of rhyme I am so reverential
He made me feel quite inconsequential.
I shed some strongly saline tears
For bards I loved in younger years.
"If Keats had fallen for your fluff,"
I said, "he might have done good stuff.
If Burns had thrown his rhymes away,
His songs might still be sung to-day."
O bards of rhyme and metre free,
My gratitude goes out to ye
For all your deathless lines--ahem!
Let's see, now . . . What is one of them?
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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In Between The Lines
In between the lines
as we go about our lives
we often seem to think
no one loves no one cares
In between the lines
we drag our weary feet
and often think who cares
and shuffles mindless
to the beat
In between the lines
we search for gloom & doom
we come up with outrageous stories
that we plant between the lines
In between the lines
we throw caution to the wind
making out the lies
to be a bitter truth
so just bare in mind
what’s just been said
we always learn life’s mystery’s
in between the lines
poem by Kaila George
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