Jordan
Who says that fictions only and false hair
Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty?
Is all good structure in a winding stair?
May no lines pass, except they do their duty
Not to a true, but painted chair?
Is it no verse, except enchanted groves
And sudden arbours shadow coarse-spun lines?
Must purling streams refresh a lover's loves?
Must all be veiled, while he that reads divines,
Catching the sense at two removes?
Shepherds are honest people: let them sing:
Riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime:
I envy no man's nightingale or spring;
Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme,
Who plainly say, My God, My King.
poem by George Herbert
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Related quotes
Jordan (I)
Who says that fictions only and false hair
Become a verse? Is there no truth in beauty?
Is all good structure in a winding stair?
May no lines pass, except they do their duty
Not to a true, but painted chair?
Is it no verse, except enchanted groves
And sudden arbors shadow coarse-spun lines?
Must purling streams refresh a lover's loves?
Must all be veiled, while he that reads, divines,
Catching the sense at two removes?
Shepherds are honest people; let them sing:
Riddle who list, for me, and pull for Prime:
I envy no man's nightingale or spring;
Nor let them punish me with loss of rime,
Who plainly say, My God, My King.
poem by George Herbert
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Poets Improvise
Pardon this poem's tale, warp w[r]it it be,
Old mind aims meets, binds word games into gear.
Ever scanned art, we let wise thoughts come clear,
Their end to share here, setting spirit free.
Some see spun verse with risibility.
I through revealed art relink lines sincere
Motifs realigning show in masked mots here, -
Pleasure discover in jest play, planned key.
Run round rhyme lines, read riddle's energy
Opens up house, home, renews one’s cheer.
Voyage take, see thread wed verse appear
In enchanted ave twine, idyll see!
So rhyme dare meet, as all bestirs joy's pleasure
NET treasure to men awe, as we spend leisure
© Jonathan Robin Polyacrostic wrriten 12 September 2005 and revised 3 June 2007
external acrostic: Poets Improvise
internal acrostics
ABLE WAS I ERE I SAW ELBA
Poets Improvise
HANDS HEED HANDS
TREASURE PLEASURE MEASURE
poem by Jonathan Robin
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My verse
There are those who dip their quill in honey
Before they verse the lines of love
There are those who soak it in agony
Before they lay the lines of solitude and loath
I am none of the above
My verse is simple
It puts a smile between two dimples
copy rights 2010
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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Gray
The loud, apt epithet, applying sure;
The dim-drawn image, artfully obscure;
The perfect stanza, framed of words as choice
And round as pearls, yet liquid to the voice;
A pith of phrase, and musical array
Of numbers;—these are the prime charms of Gray.
The naked majesty and open wonder
Of true sublimity heaped in lines of thunder;
That artless grace wherewith the olden time
Dandled the happy infancy of Rhyme;
That negligent melody which shames the trick
Of wire-drawn verse, and verse-drawn rhetoric:
These in our rich old Bards abound; but these
To Gray were literary heresies.
poem by Charles Harpur
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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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Louise
[english verse]
The way you speaak - into my ear
The way I feel when I know you
Are near
Something so good, it must be wrong
Louise ---be true to me
[french verse]
[chorus]
When I think about what Ive missed
Without you Id cease to exist
If you leave me, lord I would cry
Three weeks best, Id curl up and die
Be true to me, temoi cherie, louise, louise
I - yi - yi
[chant verse]
Have you seen my baby
Yes, all the time
Then you know its true
What - Im in love
How can you be so sure
What - tell the truth
Does it come from your heart
Yes it does
Where
Deep inside
Where
From the center
Good
Best of luck, and you will need
Plenty of that
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Autobiograpical Poem
I am a simple poem,
It's plain for all to see.
No haiku, limerick or sonnet,
Just simple rhyme for me.
I'm on my second verse just now,
So soon it will be three.
Uncomplicated, very plain,
So easy, Oh! so free.
There are no causes I espouse,
For nothing I campaign,
I do not speak of love or lust,
I never speak of pain.
Some people say that I'm just words,
They don't know how I thrive.
I tell them I am born each day,
I'm very much alive.
I'm winding down towards the end,
Just another verse to go,
I've avoided all controversy,
I just went with the flow.
So here I am, sixth verse at last,
It's still plain for all to see
That if you keep it simple
You'd be a poem just like me!
poem by Joe Hughes
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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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Finest Gift
Verse one
She can shop all over town, turn the gift
Shops upside down
Finding something for her man with everything
But its right behind her eyes and no matter what she buys
Shell always be the finest gift she brings
Chorus
Every year its never missed, should be at
The top of every list
It can never be outdone,its the perfect
Gift for everyone
Verse two
Its in everything youll see scattered
Underneath our tree
You can hear it in the carols that we sing
Its the heart of loves design and it
Appreciates with time
And shell always be the finest gift she brings
(repeat chorus)
Verse three
Now its not in any store and she could
Never give me more
Then her promise of the finest gift she brings
I know her loves the finest gift she brings
song performed by by Clint Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet 63: Against my love shall be as I am now
Against my love shall be as I am now
With Time's injurious hand crushed and o'erworn,
When hours have drained his blood and filled his brow
With lines and wrinkles, when his youthful morn
Hath travelled on to age's steepy night,
And all those beauties whereof now he's king
Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight,
Stealing away the treasure of his spring:
For such a time do I now fortify
Against confounding age's cruel knife,
That he shall never cut from memory
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life.
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,
And they shall live, and he in them still green.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Sonnet 63: Against my love shall be, as I am now
Against my love shall be, as I am now,
With Time's injurious hand crushed and o'erworn;
When hours have drained his blood and filled his brow
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn
Hath travelled on to age's steepy night,
And all those beauties whereof now he's king
Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight,
Stealing away the treasure of his spring;
For such a time do I now fortify
Against confounding age's cruel knife,
That he shall never cut from memory
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life.
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,
And they shall live, and he in them still green.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Jackass
To know you is to hate you
So loving you must be like suicide
Well I don't mind if you don't mind
I'm not the one that's going to die
I guess I just can't listen
To this one sided conversation again
Cause I don't care if I don't care
Well no one ever said that life is fair
Well everybody loves a joke
But no one likes a fool
And you're always cracking the same old lines again
You're well rehearsed on every verse
And that was stated clear
But no one understands your verity
The center of attention
Got an honorable mention once again
Congratulations and salutations
You're figment of your own imagination
Well everybody loves a joke
But no one likes a fool
And you're always cracking the same old lines again
You're well rehearsed on every verse
And that was stated clear
But no one understands your verity
Hey
To know you is to bait you
And you fell victim to your own denial
Well I don't mind if you don't mind
You're wasting all your time
song performed by by Green Day from Warning
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem about Poetry - what is not poetry
writing lines
not like a child
writing lines
robotlike
hitting at keys
rather than own heart
writing lines
throwing words
which are yet
our friends
words picked
from thesaurus
dictionaries
for word's sake
an alley of prostitutes
we treat as our wives
godless
writing as if
the world
possesses
no soul and
god, the real poet
who spares symbols
for his creation
trees, lightning,
thunder
for poets
to colour their world
to see the other side
of the world
how the trees, lightning
thunder
are a part of men
themselves
described,
the trees - spring of youth
lightning - rage
thunder - warning
the warming effect
god's verse to men's uncaring verse
misinterpretation of his symbols
god the leading poet
the world a repository of symbols
for his masterpiece
a masterpiece
we could only admire
the real poet leaves us
something to ponder about
and to add a verse or two
to his work
like the almighty poet
who when he likes
answers us back
in riddles
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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I’ve Lost One Verse With Tinkling Lines
I’ve lost one verse
With tinkling lines,
I’ve lost a verse,
It’s somewhere else…
I sought the leaf,
But couldn’t find,
Even from the disc
It vanished.
I cried and cried
For that little verse,
In my soul it lay
Like a winged word,
It lay there
Like grief and anguish.
That bright and sincere thought –
That verse remained in the past.
I’m tired of grief and sorrow,
Sorrow has seized me at last…
24.04.2006
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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Sweet Pandemonium
Today tomorrow seems so far away
In the waiting lane, yeah
So safe, in the blinding light of love unchained
In yesterdays grave, yeah
The truth I can sense so sweet
Is buried within sweet pandemonium
Concealed by disbelief
The riddle stays veiled in sweet pandemonium
Afraid that everything remains unchanged
In this fragile dream, yeah
Ashamed of the shattered remains
Of promises made, yeah
The truth I can sense so sweet
Is buried within sweet pandemonium
Concealed by disbelief
The riddle stays veiled in sweet pandemonium
Trying by the enduring dream
Faith by the enduring dream
The secret cries for worrying
Now were sinking deep in sweet pandemonium
The truth I can sense so sweet
Is buried within sweet pandemonium
Concealed by disbelief
The riddle stays veiled in sweet pandemonium
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Pandemonium
Today tomorrow seems so far away
In the waiting lane, yeah
So safe, in the blinding light of love unchained
In yesterday's grave, yeah
The truth I can sense so sweet
Is buried within sweet pandemonium
Concealed by disbelief
The riddle stays veiled in sweet pandemonium
Afraid that everything remains unchanged
In this fragile dream, yeah
Ashamed of the shattered remains
Of promises made, yeah
The truth I can sense so sweet
Is buried within sweet pandemonium
Concealed by disbelief
The riddle stays veiled in sweet pandemonium
Trying by the enduring dream
Faith by the enduring dream
The secret cries for worrying
Now we're sinking deep in sweet pandemonium
The truth I can sense so sweet
Is buried within sweet pandemonium
Concealed by disbelief
The riddle stays veiled in sweet pandemonium
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Many Lies ?
Once there were times,
Once there were reasons filled with rhymes,
Everything shared, everything told
You keep me so warm,
Protect me from all those mighty storms
And dreams seem so old
So look at us now, just look at us now,
With our hands on our hearts
And lines on our brow
How many lies must we tell?
How many lies must we see?
How many times must we say, its for the best?
And leave truth as the casualty?
Do you read through the lines,
Or believe the tv and the times?
Where can we find more ways to see?
You strain on the truth,
And make believe all when you cry wolf,
And the lies youre giving me
So look at us now, just look at us now,
With our hands on our hearts
And lines on our brow
How many lies must we tell?
How many lies must we see?
How many times must we say, its for the best?
And leave truth as the casualty?
Oh, well the truth is hard,
So when they write the book,
Fictions what you wanna be
Well, its your freedom of choice,
But you know that lies, are the cancer of democracy
Youve painted your face,
And now youve tainted your words
And now youre ready and armed with love
Well if youre head is steady,
And your soul is ready,
Were going up above
So whatever you wanna be,
Just come on along with me,
If theres truth in our hearts,
Maybe we can break free
How many lies must we tell?
How many lies must we see?
How many times must we say, its for the best?
And leave truth as the casualty?
How many lies must we tell?
How many lies must we see?
How many times must we say, its for the best?
And leave truth as the casualty?
How many times must we say, its for the best?
And leave nothing, yeah
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Woman Of Rhyme
She is not what you'd call beautiful though still in her prime
And to those who know her she is known as The Woman of Rhyme
In Local Literary circles not even one of note
As she does not fit the bill of the Modern Poet.
But the rhyme from her gushes and it races along
And in five minutes flat she can pen you a song
And though not classified as a poet her verse is not doggerel
And with her gift of rhyme one might say she does well.
Some fifty years ago she would have known fame
And her's would have been a great Literary name
But rhyme it would seem has passed it's use by date
And what's now seen as old fashioned was once seen as great.
Even the best of the Local modern poets seem strangers to renown
But then such is life in a football mad Town
In the pubs the names of famed poets and artists they never recall
Their small talk mostly of sports, footballers and football.
For what she is good at she is not recognized
But having said that I am not really surprised
since rhyme verse has long passed it's glorious time
And none to applaud the young Woman of Rhyme.
poem by Francis Duggan
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