Treasure Island

Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop


Post a message
  • Bullion Grey (4/27/2009 12:20:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    'Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can some how become great.'
    -Mark Twain

  • OuSs@Ma Samouna (4/17/2009 5:55:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Dear poet
    can you take few minutes
    of your expensive time
    to read my new poem 'A friend'
    comment it.

    Thanks a lot in advance.

  • OuSs@Ma Samouna (4/16/2009 3:06:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    A friend


    A friend
    is someone who
    F inds you in a
    R ush of people,
    I nspires you to do something in life,
    knows & feels all your
    E motions and
    N ever leaves you till the
    D eath.

    A friend
    is someone that everyone needs

    A friend
    is that special one

    A friend
    is someone you tell everything

    A friend
    is someone you never lie to

    A friend
    is someone can be a boy or girl

    A friend
    is someone always with you

    A friend
    is someone who knows everything about
    you and simply still loves you

    A friend
    is someone who sees the pain in your eyes
    while everyone else still believes in the smile in your face

    A friend
    always offer everything he can

    A friend
    will help you honestly when we need

    A friend
    will never let you down

    But, hey you! ! !

    A friend
    is not just sharing a joke, a conversation, a cup
    of coffee or a funny story

    A friend
    is sharing an honest and true part of yourself

    A friend
    is someone that everyone needs



    In short,

    A friend is the Oxygen that we all breath


    So,
    what would you do if you didn't have

    A friend? ? ? !

  • OuSs@Ma Samouna (4/16/2009 3:05:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Kindly read my poems.
    Any critical comments shall be appreciated.
    Thanks.

  • Michael Harmon (4/16/2009 2:20:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    As I mentioned in another forum, I'm new to this site. However, I believe a better name for this forum would have been 'Fixed Form Workshop', and a better name for the other one (the Free Form workshop) would have been 'Organic Form Workshop'. Rhythm and rhyme are not solely restricted to 'traditional' forms.

    Replies for this message:
  • John W Fenn (4/8/2009 3:55:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    If a ginger kid bites you, what should you do?
    Don’t call for the doctor head for the zoo
    For there they’ll have the drug that’s right
    To kill the sting of the gingers bite
    Relieve the pain and ease the stress
    Of your impending gingerness
    As doctors do not have a cure
    This dread disease you must endure
    .
    Its symptoms are so painless that
    You may forget to wear your hat
    You’ll walk the streets without a care
    Till someone spots your ginger hair
    The ignominy and the shame
    Of your intensely ruddy mane
    May lead to thoughts of suicide
    Though this is something best not tried
    .
    But there’s a place I’ve heard it said
    Where those with ginger on their head
    Can live in peace without a care
    With other folk with ginger hair
    So if inflicted with this curse
    And God knows there is nothing worse
    Pack up and join the merry band
    Who live out there in Gingerland

    (C) John W Fenn 03-04-2009

    Replies for this message:
    • Stephen Stirk (4/12/2009 5:08:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      This is a problem that should be tackled as sensitively and humanely as possible. Surely it can't be that difficult to have separate cafe's, cinema's and bus's etc. A friend of mine thought he had esc ... more

  • Stephen Stirk (4/1/2009 11:56:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Last week I joined friends reunited
    As with most of them I have lost touch
    So I waited, and got quite excited
    As the website had promised so much

    I waited a day for some feedback
    The first night was sleepless enough
    Still certain that I’d get a good stack
    And that sifting them through would be tough

    Then after a weekend of hoping
    I’d received nothing back by Email
    Well maybe my systems not coping
    I’ve heard that the server can fail

    A month has gone by Oh so quickly
    And things have gone round in my head
    It all leaves me feeling quite sickly
    But what if my old mates are dead

    The chances of this are too slender
    As I’d heard that they live all around
    But they haven’t got back to the sender
    And I’ve had my ear to the ground

    It’s six months since I left my data
    And I’ve sat the whole time at my screen
    I’m sure they’ll get back to me later
    “Come on me old mates, don’t be mean”

    A year’s quickly flown, and I’m still here
    Though I must say, I’m feeling some wrath
    I’m Stinking of ciggies and stale beer
    And 12 months away from my bath

    Five years have gone by and I’m stinking
    I’ve got used to these really long waits
    But the whole thing has set be to thinking
    Perhaps I don’t have any mates

    Ten years have flown by, and I don’t care
    I still think that something will come
    My bottom is wedged in the armchair
    And the cushion forms part of me bum

    But twenty years on and now yippee
    My first message, ‘I’ve got a hit’
    “I knew you as s**t face the hippy
    How are you, you sad little git”

    So I’ve finished with friends reunited
    And I’ve joined a new club on the net
    It’s called “I’ve no friends I’m delighted”
    And they guarantee mail you won’t get

  • Steve Hagerman (3/21/2009 12:19:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies Stage

    The Nor'easter

    'The wind is up by nor'east boys;
    She'll be a blow tonight.'
    For what was eight bell rippled ease
    Will come a roarin' fright.
    The merc' was down to fourteen bars
    and droppin' like a stone.
    If we can't make East Marble Cove,
    We'll meet with Davey Jones.

    The captain called all hands to task
    And barked the dogwatch choir;
    'Unfurl that mizzen full me lads
    and set the headsails fore.'
    The cook began to bellyache.
    The shipboy's face turned white.
    'Secure the main sheet's bitter end,
    then throw them yards a bight.'

    Gray headland cliffs, now needle thin,
    Had just come into view.
    And three hours hence, safe harbor cove.
    We only had but two.
    As bound began to grow great swells,
    Squalls marched across the sky.
    The captain quipped, 'She's close I fear',
    Then let a long, low sigh.

    The wind among the rigging howled,
    Our ship heeled hard to lee.
    Teak decking creaked, as mastheads swayed
    And gunnels filled with sea.
    White-knuckled men in wide-eyed stare
    began to cry and pray.
    All I could think was; what a ride!
    Thrill AND two bits a day?

    SDH

    No bold? No italics? No font size? This sucks!

    Replies for this message:
    • Josie Whitehead (3/27/2009 8:43:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      Is your writing quite dull? Does it not get reviews? Has your brain gone to sleep, and what of your muse? I’ve read some good tips and I tend to agree, Now here’s what I read. Do come ... more

    • Chuck Audette (3/25/2009 11:48:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      Like this very much, Mr. Hagerman. Been wanting to do a shipwreck poem myself, you've caught the full flavor of it here...

  • Goof Egg (3/11/2009 4:06:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    I don't know how to begin my words
    cause penicillin just silly my mind
    Sometimes I like a blind to feel
    and got a portion of the elephant
    I have a little awfulness
    when you are late the third time
    hope you don't mind my honesty
    splash my feeling so directly

    I should be a man with wide bosom
    and not tightly gaze your flaw
    that will be like a shy fool boy
    only immerge road and miss the view
    you so kind like a nature good poe
    If you are willing I lie in you
    I'll be so happy to feel your gentle
    Would you give me safe for the whole
    2001.07.23 22: 41
    (First time here, introduce myself: I am from China, and my English is pale, so many words and grammar faults will be in my document, but I wish I can improve my English and makes some friends here.Maybe you will find many errors in my text, especially in my 'poem', wish you would like to pick them out for me, I will appreciate you very much.)

  • Stephen Stirk (2/20/2009 7:28:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    The Cabbage Patch Men (A Poem in Rhythm and Rhyme)

    There’s a bare stretch of land down the end of our street
    It’s a place unemployed and retired folk meet
    Where we hang about idly and talk about nature
    We really don’t care if you’re early or late your
    A ‘Town Growers’ member elite

    You’ve a small bit of land, an ‘allotment’ its name
    It’s got fence on all sides, and you’re so glad you came
    If you’re wealthy, you sit in a shed, made of wood
    If you’re not, an old brolly and box are as good
    It’s all part of the ‘Town Growers’ game

    There’s a smell in the air “Is it sh**”? You’re not sure
    But regardless, you keep coming back for some more
    The posh have green wellies, the jobless have black
    Some even have tellies, the bad guys smoke crack
    And the smell is concealed by manure

    There’s polite conversation to analyze veg
    There’s three litres of cider concealed in a hedge
    The men discuss deeply the size of their sprouts
    And the way to protect them from greenfly or louts
    Or the weeds and coarse grasses like sedge

    There’s no toilet in sight should you feel like a pee
    So you simply discharge it were no-one can see
    Indecent exposure could cause a mishap
    Up to three years in jail should you bend for a c**p
    But organic and chemical free

    “My plums are gigantic”, says John, unemployed
    “And I know my cucumber is often enjoyed”
    “Look at me pumpkin, I grew it from seed
    This beauty’s from Europe, a bloody great swede
    But me marrow dried up, I’m annoyed

    Kevin is proud of his long thick courgette
    And brags of the item he grew for a bet
    He says “it tastes great when it turns darkish green”
    It grows very quick and you know where it’s been
    And my girlfriend is proud “Aren’t you pet”

    There’s a serious edge to the cabbage debate
    And some blows are exchanged on ‘The use of phosphate’
    Dirty Danny peers out from the back of his shed
    Has a girl to deflower on his spring onion bed
    And it’s only their very first date

    “I don’t rush me greens, they are not grown in haste”
    Says a proud small patch holder “All eaten – no waste”
    There’s nothing as white as me organic cauli
    I grew it in shit from a farm horse called ‘Dolly’
    But it does leave a slight aftertaste

    As darkness descends at the ‘Town Growers’ club
    And the heroes depart with their organic grub
    Wives have bought veg either frozen or tinned
    And the ‘Town Growers’ produce ends up being binned
    So the growers depart to the pub

    Replies for this message:
    • Duh Huh (2/21/2009 9:22:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      A funny enjoyable read, i laughed and giggled and its been a while since i giggled lol. If i still had any growing up to do, i'd want to grow up to write just like you :)

[Hata Bildir]