Rule of Free Rhyme
Rhyme echoes time as creativity
Unreels threads which sense and rich feelings skein,
Lends to life’s scheme light beam which bends prose plain,
Extracts its pith with sensitivity,
Outreaching limits, spurning gravity, -
Finding behind mind’s veil tone, scale, refrain.
Fools find form forced, restricting fancy’s reign,
Repressed, or lacking sense acuity.
Emotions may be stressed with clarity
Expressive through rhyme time and time again,
Revealing style while from the chaff the grain
Has space to trace with receptivity
Youth’s aspirations, age’s fears, and more, -
MEanings multivalent, truth may store.
14 February 2005
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Emphasis - Does Prose Satisfy?
Do rhyme and structure strangle sense,
Or emphasize emotions which
Eclectic rhythms render rich?
Stress reinforces verse, intense
Pleasure may be felt, with scents
Recalled from seasons past. Why stitch
On prose per prose that joy, its switch
So seldom magic supplements.
Excessive style is sterile, whence
Some seem to say that those who ditch
A long tradition feel the itch
To sense in rhyme mime or pretence.
It could be this misrepresents
So much which should be shared, keyed pitch.
Facts dry may well define a rose,
Yet can its scent pour through poor prose?
poem by Jonathan Robin
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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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What Mission Now?
What mission may the poet still retain
Here in this day and age, which sees the world
As lost as ever, while mankind is whirled
Too fast, and at a pace few can sustain.
Most mask their feelings, shield themselves from pain,
In hope that though no psalms are skywards skirled
Some light can filter through cocoons which, curled,
Shut out most aspirations, which remain
Ideals Man thinks he ought to seek. In vain
Or so it seems, the flag of hope unfurled
Now braves the insults philistine which, hurled,
Nor spare nor temper the poetic vein.
One voice, when clear, will break the glass of Time,
What matter if in free-verse or in rhyme?
Whenever rhyme is crafted on ideas
Heart tunes to rhythm, can effect enhance
Allowing invitation to a dance
That adds dimensions in way that clears
Muddy waters - often verse appears
In ways which heighten, lighten, help advance
Subtle emphasis where words through Chance
Seem to stream together. Inner ears
Intuitive may key to song that steers
Over prose bound limits, elegance
Neat meanings adding through rhyme's happenstance
No forms need hamper thought where heart heart cheers.
Open mind behind the [t]racing pen
Will channel words creating worlds again...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Flowin Prose
Im flowing prose to cons and cons to pros
Im scheming rhyme against reason like it was flow against know
But beyond the concepts and emotions that rise
To the interconnectedness that underlies
The lies upon lies have lost their meaning
The plies upon plies of consciousness that is being
Over and over I fall I learned to walk from a crawl
Its not sad its just the way and the purpose of it all
Now every word that you heard that I said that you felt
Was put in place in the space as they were shuffled and dealt
I steal feels from reels but I pay my respects
Paying compliments and disses and deciphering affects
Words are water as I court her, as she is pristine
Words and mics fall to dust and all thats left is the feelings
I give in and I win I try to never complain
Intentions venture to center and then they set the stage
But Ill remain sane making gain without pain
Staining trains with names and driving lanes to the refrain
And keep it positive as painstaking as it is
Ill never turn back cause thats the way Ive got to live
So like a cloud carries rain Im gonna carry my rhyme
Coming like thunder with lightening timing
No hesitation in gestation of thoughts and plans
Ferment time like wine no ploys or scams
Like the islands dot the oceans in the endless seas
Ideas coming to me in answer to my pleas
Woke up this morning right out of a dream
Reached for my pen and pad because my mind was on a rhyme scheme
What can I do with these bones and flesh?
With these animated thoughts in a world repressed?
Im going down like the rhythms on the winds of change
Im keeping calm under pressure like a deep-sea range
Im flowing prose to cons and cons to pros
Im like toucan sam when I follow my nose
Im giving shouts to gandhi, gravy and king
His holiness and all enlightened beings
Ill be the one who screams it on the microphone
Ill be the one who brings it inside your home
But the words aint mine I just pass em along
For betty williams and her friends I sing this song
And more ink from my pen and more tears from my eyes
And more crimes are committed as I say these lines
song performed by by Beastie Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet 2
my mind's eye from outer eye remove.
make senseless the argument of sense
that beauty not subject to sense prove
nor object to time that takes you hence.
then, mind from eye withdrawn,
in dark, sense may shine bright
and mind itself your beauty form,
forming mind to your illuminate.
but not thought's sense to hear
nor sense of mind in sense feel,
dimensional sight and intelligent ear
bereft of mind from mind would reel.
no war between your feature and form
exists except in eye - that does harm.
poem by Doug Bentley
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Transistors and Tubes
now women are like transistors
and men are just like tubes
and women can be like sisters
and men will act like boobs
men are simple, women complex
women see men as big red necks
men are simple
men are simple
men see women as sex objects
so now women are transistors
girls are multitasking
being smarter than the misters
thank you just for asking
women are true and love their man
loving him, as much as she can
women are true
women are true
it’s been this way since time began
here’s the reason, men are like tubes
they will forget her mind
talk to her heart but watch her boobs
thinking of her behind
men can’t devote their heart to one
they’ll run around and just have fun
men can’t devote
men can’t devote
I still love that son of a gun
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 syllables of line five /c
poem by Amera Andersen
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If Choice is Choice
Intense the sense of pattern which the mind
Never ceases weaving as the Way
Advances over Time and rhyme to find
Meaning's meanings simple, sure, yet fey.
Ideas presented well, thoughts underlined, -
No superficiality where they
Allow free range - as spirit well designed
Marks space to place wor[l]d catalysts which may -
If choice is choice not circumstance designed -
New windows open through which interplay
Another, and another insight wind
Make constant progress through syllabic play.
INfinite our opportunities
MAy tendrils touch, find much soul further frees...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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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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On Being Told That There Is No Rhyme For The Word “Limerick”
After I heard Harry’s limerick,
I found that my mind set to simmer. “Rick, ”
I said to myself,
“One might write it itself, ”
But I answered, “You’re chances are slimmer, Rick! ”
So I can’t find a good rhyme for Limerick.
Told myself, “ You are just a beginner, Rick
And though there’s no reason
You can’t write something decent,
I fancy your chances get grimmer, Rick! ”
He said that it might rhyme with turmeric
But I thought, “You’re not that fast a learner, Rick:
Ditch your thoughts wasting time
Finding suitable rhyme;
Let your plans, man, stand on the back burner, Rick.”
But the cogwheels had started to turn a bit
As I guessed I had started to learn a bit
And I might find a line
That rhymes Limerick fine
And might win me a prize, so I earn a bit.
But I thought, “Though there was just a glimmer, Rick.
You will think till you’re needing a zimmer, Rick,
Since the muse isn’t kind,
I am sure you’ll will find
Not a word that will rhyme fine with Limerick.”
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Refuse Short Fuse
Short fuse refuse, compliance automatic
Has had its day, rejoice in choices where
Open horizons offer future fair.
Ride the tide to banish autocratic
Traits of mind behind smiles soft and static.
Find scale, tune time to shed blind veil, compare
Unbiased options open everywhere.
Signals send amending all erratic
Ephemera extemporary, ecstatic.
Swift to pencil in blank sheet we bear
Hope’s theme: responsibility and care
Over patter pattern enigmatic.
Remember Patience, smiling still at Grief,
Takes time to rhyme, allows the mind relief...
11 June 2005
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Creative Knots And Have Nots
If 'me' may be, if not un me[t], as least not knot me, if mind can candle hand maid entrancing universe unto itself, may the universe be a mind unto itself dispelling compelling spelling. If so, can it mind that minds can cant, or cannot decant Kant, encapsulating insight along dotted line frame forms spurning formal form frames?
Fresh fusion transforms chaos confusion to creative fractal constellation of potent energy sub-particles. Verbal wake-shake makes time, taking time out for its own acorn ache sake discarding corn flaking rhyme. Also sprach Zarathustra disregarding state me[a]ntal lines, to [t]ra[n]ce light waves as if existence de[e]pended upon its s[p]eed, [st]arching star I Ching, portraying paradoxical parallelax perceptions as personnified spinning neu[t]rons mock both convictions and neutrality. Is all relativity one [m]asks?
17 May 2011 variation of Prose Poem on the Mind's Universe II
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIII
Author notes
Wor[l]ds in [b]rackets convey two or more meanings
me[t]: me and or met
state me[a]ntal state mean tall?
statemental, state me ant all; state meant all, sate or ate men tall etc.
[t]ra[n]ce: trace and or race, ace, trance, tance, and or rance
de[e]pended: deep ended and or depended
[st]arching: starching and or St. arching
neu[t]rons: neutrons and or neurons
[m]asks: masks and or asks
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Valentine Vale Unveiled Prevails - 0985 - Current Version
Valentine, red roses sent,
Across time's screen flashed. Witness warm
Love's imprint, flush blush. Though no form
Explicit's drawn, yet, heaven lent,
New wonders granted. Who came, went,
Time passed, forgotten, sleep. No storm
Interferes. Here neither thorn
Nor doubts dispel most excellent
Empathy, life's compliment.
Vanity impermanent?
Although emotions mortals spawn
Leave slight external trace, their dawn,
Eternal light wave echo's sent
Now through space, time, to complement
Trace radiation's monument
Intemporally enshrined. Transformed
Nexus 'twixt Past, Future, Present,
Enchantment unambivalent
(1 February 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ballade Of Truisms
Gold or silver, every day,
Dies to gray.
There are knots in every skein.
Hours of work and hours of play
Fade away
Into one immense Inane.
Shadow and substance, chaff and grain,
Are as vain
As the foam or as the spray.
Life goes crooning, faint and fain,
One refrain:
'If it could be always May!'
Though the earth be green and gay,
Though, they say,
Man the cup of heaven may drain;
Though, his little world to sway,
He display
Hoard on hoard of pith and brain:
Autumn brings a mist and rain
That constrain
Him and his to know decay,
Where undimmed the lights that wane
Would remain,
If it could be always May.
YEA, alas, must turn to NAY,
Flesh to clay.
Chance and Time are ever twain.
Men may scoff, and men may pray,
But they pay
Every pleasure with a pain.
Life may soar, and Fortune deign
To explain
Where her prizes hide and stay;
But we lack the lusty train
We should gain,
If it could be always May.
Envoy
Time, the pedagogue, his cane
Might retain,
But his charges all would stray
Truanting in every lane -
Jack with Jane -
If it could be always May.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Cause Dreams Effects
Rippling outwards bird of Time
converts for unseen reason
aspirations into rhyme
whose trace breasts space and season
to face fair future's pantomime
with dreams no hand has lease on...
(3 July 2008 robi03_1782 XXX_ZXX)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Senseless
Whether the words are sense or rhyme
Within, they are, my kaleidoscope mind
Travelling thru both space and time
Private world unwind
Beams of dreams
Desires
Screams
Ignites, excites
Heights
Delights
Reveal
Appea l
Reinvent the wheel
It does not matter, illusional feel
poem by Littlewing28 Space
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Please Do Not Be Disappointed With My Poetry
in the first place i do not really rhyme
not that i can't but i don't because i like it to be just that
like my life, i do not really rhyme with the world
there is more conflict
than harmony, i do not jibe and jam well with
yes, anybody, it simply takes time for them to really understand me
more more time for me too to understand them
and like them
and like me, as though living life is just a matter of liking each other
period, and not really trying to learn and be compassionate
and have this little sense of tolerance
this sense
of perhaps, he is just ekking his way to a steep mountain of his
trying hard
(copycat) of just trying to live in authenticity
honesty, that is the simplest word we can say
i always think of other things
sometimes people are just cruel
they want patterns they want people to be like other people
setting models
and trails made also by men and women with the usual human brains
poor judgments come and we do not bother we simply want others to
live normal lives
nothing deviant, shy away from the genius of ingenuity
trekking new paths
not minding the dangers of the unknown spreading like a red carpet
before our feet
back to poetry, this is my poetry and by now you have noticed
they are written as they come inside my mind
no patterns no molds no shape no expectations no
AA BB CC DD
just plain talk, spontaneous, like a tear falling from your eyes
shaping itself to pain and then falling without style
like a candle melting to the fire and shaping itself
in the air
there is simply no dictation of where and how and what
like ourselves our lives like chocolates in the box
of Forest Gump
we just don't know what we really get
we just let go
and let live and then die and be buried
tears for a while, and then
yes, forever forgotten.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Birthday Celebration
How strange it seems, that old age follows youth!
when all the world seemed one's own, at that time,
with time enough to seek a higher truth -
who'd guess the stairs so steep, so slow to climb?
Worn carpets and worn kneecaps are old age
- and yet, a blessed time for life of mind:
for those who wish, a different sense of wage;
free-chosen universal work to find;
and yet more blessed still: that earth-bound soul
to meet and greet, and work its soil and flowers;
to live with gratitude; and scan the whole
to find that One which proves the whole world ours.
As iron age yields to the gold of truth,
so our old age may find within, true youth.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Daughter's Gone, Daughter's Gone
Daughter's gone, daughter's gone,
Still my memories linger on;
All those moments through the years
Fraught with anguish, doubts and fears.
Yes, she left before her time,
Changing patterns with life's rhyme;
Left our nest, in love, unschooled
And I judged her sadly fooled.
Seventeen's a fright-filled age,
With emotions on rampage;
There she left, forevermore,
Left the welcome of our door.
Now, she's gone and wedded, schooled,
Leaving me completely fooled.
Though she left before her time,
She's in cadence with life's rhyme.
Now, there's glitter in my tears
And I laugh right through my fears;
Still my memories linger on-
Daughter's gone-Daughter's gone.
poem by Joseph Anderson
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Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty - 1677 - Current Version
The poet's lyre afire responds to braid
heart's comfort to art's artistry at play
Truth Beauty, Beauty Truth John Keats would say -
Endymion - reflection which won't fade.
Beauty through the eye's beholder made
an echo of eternity which may
shine well beyond the veil where night and day
frame shadow-shapes that slip away, afraid.
Beyond time's rhyme shines Beauty as obeyed
are pattern codes diverse as snowflakes fey,
each unique however short their stay,
yet each to each conjoined as love, light weighed
Between life's lines as silk skein all adore,
Beauty's theme whose waves wash timeless shore.
Modest maiden bashful blinks,
blushing beauty cream the rose
regrets for envy's icy snows
cannot compete with light that links
across time lines as life-force flows
to ransom Time while Brahma winks.
Beauty spans life's cycle spinning through
word, deed, and act, both outer, inner, form,
may, drawn though space, enchant, and thus inform
the common mortal magic must ring true.
Beauty spirals through straight lines to cue
into life's circus circle, shine and storm,
night, day, rest play, surpass codes cuniform.
All may show glow's flow, flow's glow, renew
kaleidscope eternal which we knew
we knew before, will after know, as norm
is superceded by sensations warm
that swarm within, outside sin, rise, fall, coup
de grâce as grace folds mantle over all
reflection, echoes soul's perfection call.
(15 November 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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To Rhyme?
I wonder now and again
whether or not
my poems should rhyme
if they should have a rhythmic
pentameter that catches the readers
like small fish out by the moonlit lake
where they jump for joy
when the humans have gone
For the world is filled of rhyme
as we whittle down our time
we spend it all down on this earth
the flesh decays and brings new birth
But then I realize
to rhyme is not my style
for at times, I feel that
more so than a line
the rhyme is a trap
more of a bear than a mouse
and I wonder if with my first couplet
where there begins a sort of catchy scheme
the readers bob their head to
-dah dah dah dah dah dah dah
and then they realize
that I've lost most of my flare
for my expression has been limited
by this beautiful
yet altogether mortal language
so with that
I continue to roll my tongue
as my fingers clatter on the keyboard
and I tell you stories
instead of singing you songs
poem by Jorge Garcia
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