Recipe Me
A thousand years of prose and verse,
A thousand more to settle down;
Diced and served mixed metaphors;
With metonymy and adnoun.
Catch the lovely imagery,
These stanzas are isochronous;
Let loose thy savagery;
Free verse from resulting succuss.
Attune meter and the rhyme,
Laugh off the hyperbole;
Move your hand and head in time;
Eat my words; swallow me whole.
Caress these couplet with thine eyes;
Follow the words that run-on line;
The enjambement is the prize;
Then revel in thy condign.
Dance with words in Petrarchan style;
Dress them in the right octave;
Mixed with rhythm and some guile,
Tercet I doth twice enslave.
Served with humor and litotes;
The elegy, lyric and epic.
Cavort around them as you please;
Though they may be monostich.
My poetry is quite concrete;
‘Tis marinated in prosody.
Even if they’re offbeat,
Recipe me for any malady!
08th May 2009
Copyright © SC
poem by Subroto Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Alankar(Decor) -94
Rhythm(Enclosed Tercet)
An Enclosed Tercet is a 3 line verse
in which L1 and L3 rhyme, 'enclosing' an unrhymed L2,
rhyme scheme axa bxb etc. The lines may be written in any meter.
Rhythm
What rhythms He plies in His dance-
All of good and healing cosmic
That we presume in our good trance
What rhythms does She cohere fully
In trance to yield in profuse
That we consume haunted thoroughly
Perhaps His malady is Her melody
Sorry, should never talk ill of Them
It is Theirs, Their shared secret psalmody
poem by Indira Renganathan
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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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In A Thousand Words
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD TELL YOU MY FEELINGS.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD TELL YOU I'M WILLING.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD EXPLAIN MY PERSONA.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD TALK LIKE MY MAMA.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD SING YOU A LYRIC.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD SELL YOU A GIMMICK.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD TELL YOU IT ALL.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD SAY NOTHING AT ALL.
poem by LaQuandra Baskin
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Words That Move
Amazing are the words that move
Us like the sailing seeds of a poppy or
A freight train falling from the sky
A thousand pictures paint the words that
Fuel the fires of passion or drown the
Ambitious with agony. Words
So simple, so plainly profound flowing
With articulate expressions of
stuttering staccato
haiku and sonnet
free verse and rhyme
limerick and ode
So many ways to say one thing
So many things said just one way
Like the sailing
Freight falling
A thousand pictures
Fuel words so simple
With articulate
Verse to say
Amazing
are the words that move.
poem by Mario Valdes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silence Speaks
Verse 1:
When i asked you
You said nothing was wrong
But i listened to your magical song
All its notes were gone
You sang it, i heard
Silence speaks a thousand words
Verse 2:
You keep telling me
I'll pay the price
For asking you once
And telling you twice
But i paid the day your emotions turned cold
Silence speaks a thousand words
Chorus:
Where do i turn when you turn away
It's never just the things you say
You never ever put me down
But when i speak you turn around
And saying not much is saying a lot
Verse 3:
If you spoke truth
There would be no doubt
But the only words are
"we'll work it out"
Well that's not saying much
You just don't take the time
And that is where i draw the line
Chorus
Bridge:
You're sending signals
First of hope then insecurity
Signals of doubt are everywhere
And subconsciously
You know you wanna break the ties
But you use silence
You use lies
Don't worry
I'll return your song of silence
Silence speaks a thousand words
Silence speaks a thousand words
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silence Speaks (A Thousand Words)
Verse 1:
When I asked you
You said nothing was wrong
But I listened to your magical song
All its notes were gone
You sang it, I heard
Silence speaks a thousand words
Verse 2:
You keep telling me
Ill pay the price
For asking you once
And telling you twice
But I paid the day your emotions turned cold
Silence speaks a thousand words
Chorus:
Where do I turn when you turn away
Its never just the things you say
You never ever put me down
But when I speak you turn around
And saying not much is saying a lot
Verse 3:
If you spoke truth
There would be no doubt
But the only words are
"well work it out"
Well thats not saying much
You just dont take the time
And that is where I draw the line
Chorus
Bridge:
Youre sending signals
First of hope then insecurity
Signals of doubt are everywhere
And subconsciously
You know you wanna break the ties
But you use silence
You use lies
Dont worry
Ill return your song of silence
Silence speaks a thousand words
Silence speaks a thousand words
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A literary affair
A literary affair
~
We dance in metaphors
A familiar verse
Seducing through lines
We wrap up high imagery
Pleasing the eye of the mind
We flaunt and tease
Play wicked games with words
We do as we please
Upon the pages of books
Where we throw ourselves
Into a casual comfort
We lie, play pretence
Say words were afraid to
All in a secret place
Found at the end of a pen
There written between each line
We are revealed, lovers
Fully entwined together
In a rich dance of verse
We are guilty of a literary affair
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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(LBB) Man Created the Poem
In the beginning Man created the poem
And it was good
In the end Man saw what he had done
What the poem had become and like poetry
He killed himself
Man saw the poem was without form,
And man said, let there be stanzas and man divided the words
And man saw the poem that it was good but could be better?
And then Man said let there be...
Meter
Verse
Rhythm
Rhyme
Cyn icism
Sarcasm
Subtleties
Innuendo
Imp lications
Alliteration
Repetition
Humor
Humor
Sadness
Sadness
Irony
And you still didn’t get it so
In the midst of what he had created
Man lost his way
Lost control of what he had made
And Said let there be competition
And from that last attempt to save a culture:
Pretentiousness
Arrogance
Ignorance
Flash and flare
Visuals
Over-over exaggeration
The same ol’ song and dance
Lies
Overused and abused
Superficial subject matter
In the end Man saw the poem, that it wasn’t good or bad
It
Just was…
Man saw the pome, that it was the same
Man saw the pome
It was the same
Man saw the next poem and it was the same
The same
The same
It was no longer extra ordinary, or different, just ordinary
Man saw what he had done
What the poem had become:
The most precious and vital form of human communication corrupted and made irrelevant due to human competition
poem by Emily K. Courtney
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Totally Biased
I do not often write free form
to me it is not poetry.
Freely admit my prejudice
I think it’s just a passing phase
Although I can appreciate
poetic and well written prose
This does not make it poetry
When I consult my dictionary
it makes it very clear to me.
All writing must be one of those
It can’t be both at he same time.
Prose poetry cannot exist
an obvious oxymoron
Though modern writer still insist
that what they write is poetry
.It may be really beautiful
and well presented on the page
but definitely not poetry.
Why can they not be satisfied
with their well written thoughts in prose.
Why do they call it poetry
a dandelions not a rose.
Its meter defines poetry
it doesn’t even need to rhyme.
Even free verse had its rules
but writers seem to think today
There are no rules anything goes.
I nail my colours to the mast
Not afraid to let my bias show.
31-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unmitigated verse
Don't ever read these poems
They are not literary fait accomplis
I am not board certified to write poetry
My relatives are inbred
Some of them were even from Arkansas
I am not a wizard of words
Hiding behind the curtain of degree
It is only your own time you waste here
Don't ask me to mail a check for lost hours
Any mental illness that ensues
After being exposed here
Or if you break out in a mixed pox, of metaphors
Worse, if you catch this virus
And begin to write unmitigated verse
Tangled in aphorism and drowned in simile
And nobody wants to read it
Realize then, that you are committing poetry-
Which is an indefinable offense
Under the statutes of pablum.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Dancing Words for Friend Mark Slaughter
There’s more to writing poetry,
than choosing your words carefully.
Selecting words you know will rhyme.
You must consider too the time
the beat your words will be dancing to
In just the way you want them too
.The rhythm furnished by the meter
helps your words to flow much sweeter.
The basic rules you have to learn
so you can teach them in your turn
To other poets who are new
and do not know as much as you.
The feedback which you will receive
will satisfy you I believe.
3-Mar-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Butterfly Words
A poem is a catch
Of butterfly words
That I chase with a pen
Within a paper mesh
The similes scamper
But I pinch their rims
My eyes are for rhyme
Though I never have time
I seek to make beauty
Collected in prose
In a language safari
For a substitute Hobby
My styles amateur
And not so complex
But I love a good Verse
With rare Haiku figures
A poem is catch
Of butterfly words
That flutters in the sky
Only seeing in my mind
poem by Kevin Patrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Rhythm
When I write I feel me moved like emotions of the heart
Ligaments infused as a pen, when I walk on this chart
I am rhythm I potray the movement of dance
Poetry being music rhythm being ink and a pen
I've found dance partners in these metaphors
Similies being our choreographer, can't wait to see what they have instore
As I move to words on this paper following a routine to a show
Avalanche of rhymes break dance like snow
I am rhythm
I deliver these words like cha cha
Sensual sultry movement coming together like a salsa
Keeping you intoxicated as you long for the warmth of a lover
I keep you moved like the beats of drum
Colourful inuendos, knowing spring has sprung
Harmonical expression through the strings of a guitar
Being able to open any door with the keys of a keyboard
I am rhythm but in essence I'm poetry
and as I become poetry
I redefine rhythm
poem by Kgagamatso Chimelwane
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Everything that Traffic ever did, I'd give Steve a complete lyric, titled, written out with the verse, the bridge, the shape and rhyme and then Steve had to figure out how the meter of the words would fit musically.
quote by Jim Capaldi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fashions are a passing phase for friend Jon London
I read your words with greatest care
and try to see your point of view
Although sometimes I must declare
I find it difficult to do.
I hesitate to criticise.
Aware the fault may lie with me.
Nor dare I offer you advice.
You might resent it bitterly.
The messages you try to send
to me lack simple clarity
I cannot see what you intend.
It makes no sense at all to me.
Your random thoughts lack coherence
They’re neither poetry nor prose.
An unintended consequence
of fashions changing I suppose.
The way that poetry is taught
in schools and colleges today.
They do not know although they ought.
Anything goes is not the way.
Most modern so called poetry
can only be poetic prose
Although it’s written beautifully
Opinions differ I suppose.
I’ll stick to formal poetry
Perhaps I need the discipline
that rhyme and meter gives to me.
And free form verse I will decline.
2-Feb-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Delve Into The Depths Of Self
I take my pen
to the blank page
words amazingly
aching to be told
When I write
I undress myself
show myself
for who I am
I've inked my entity
I get multiple spasms on
universal concepts when I
Para-verse
I found a compound universe
at my letters core
I hold tight to
every syllable
created
Free verse
Lyric
Idiom
Meiosis
I see
poetry
endlessly
Ink we're carving mysterious shapes
like language landscapes
Twelve Gauge Pen
Ski Mask
Lyrical Assassination
Femme Font Fatale
Words push
and serge
forward
passion
silences
self control
while wild minds
whip matters
into submission
I spit metaphors
second language
lyrical correlation
rebel in my own right
artistic personification
I dream about lines
my world is dictionary
Expressing
myself
this way
on line therapy
session after session
even in my writes
I make my confession
I learned early to delve
into the depths
of self
the sultry
rhythm
of the space
in between
each pulse
where the ink
becomes reason
to be
when words
become breaths
to take steps
into wreck-less
abandon
See I wanna
spark weakness
in your being
when I speak
I wanna
create
a way to
salute
your every
sensory receptor
with poetic nectar
Let me
penetrate you
with my hard
prose
let my
tongue
speak
the language
of passion
to you
Thru
starved
lips
love is
emitted
thru its
depth
poem by Samantha Campbell
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Prose-Poetry
Once prose and poetry existed side by side
Two styles of literature, each with its bound
Jealously guarded by the literati
Lest prose masquerades as poetry.
The First World War smashed all fetters,
Soldiers wrote heart-rending poetic letters
To sweethearts, friends, fathers and mothers.
Newspapers published their anguish and horrors
The literati classed them as prose
And turned up their nose
At such a new trend of mongrelised poetry;
But the public gave it name and identity
Prose-poetry began to gain respectability.
Prose-poetry is a contradiction in terms,
An oxymoron; a paradox of many forms.
When well written, words flow as though in rhyme
Thought and syntax together dance with rhythm.
Some pen few lines haphazardly,
String words together arbitrarily,
Flit between thoughts randomly,
Structure their poems casually.
They want us to see them as thinkers
In fact, they are just wearing blinkers.
If only they could see their folly
They’d stop abusing prose-poetry.
poem by Isam Hussain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Pursuit of a Poetry Prize
I’m constructing a poem in a strategic new way.
So they won’t comprehend what I’m trying to say.
For a poetry contest with a fabulous prize,
I studied what seems to attract judges’ eyes.
I was reading the ones recognized in the past,
seeking form and design for the words I will cast,
when I noticed a pattern, a key to their prose,
illogical thoughts in unorganized rows.
The first verse confuses, that’s part of the game.
The second verse vague, just more of the same.
Like, “In the beginning the ending was near, ”
or, “We basked in an ardent recollection of fear.”
They conclude with some incomprehensible phrase,
like, “The prolific embrace of our foregone days.”
Ideas aren't finished in these literary events,
and it seems they avoid any words that make sense.
When they don’t understand, it becomes a deep thought.
In depth they will ponder what meaning was sought.
They'll scoff if you've written a limerick or rhyme,
then cast it aside as a waste of their time.
I'll likely be banned, or be forced to concede,
but I'm sharing the secret it takes to succeed;
Don't stress over structure or fret about flow,
use thoughts you don’t have and words you don’t know.
poem by Kevin Pace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dress Me Like Poetry
Dress me like poetry in silk stanza stockings,
in pearls of metered verse on a syllabic strand.
Brush rhythm through my hair and rhyme on my lashes,
and paint me in tones of syntax and sonnet sand.
Dangle diction diamonds to adorn my face,
like cascading charms of sweet metaphoric prose.
Give me blue ballad bonnet alliteration
and assonant slippers with repetitious bows.
With sestina skirt and connotation corset,
I am the allusion and the symbol of love.
I am the onomatopoeia twilight song,
the euphonious moonlight that shimmers above.
So dress me like poetry, in pleasant pantoum
or in the cacophony of a villanelle,
in the ode of hyperbole or anapest,
in romantic Terza Rima or Terzanelle.
Dress me like poetry with the breath of your kiss,
and let your precious flower blossom in the night.
Then, move mountains for this moment and disrobe me.
My petals stroked by the gentle hands of moonlight.
poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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