Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop

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

    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?


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

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

      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

      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

    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

    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

      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 :)

  • Stephen Stirk (2/10/2009 6:52:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    My name is Steve, and I'm new to Poem Hunter. I would describe myself as a traditional rhyming poet with a comedy bias. I don't, however, believe in rhyming for rhyming sake. I also enjoy reading rhyme and none rhyming poetry. My main goal as a poet, is to experiment with diverse subject matter. I believe that diversity increases a poems uniqueness. I try to tell a story or sell a moral within each poem. I also enjoy experimentation into the idiotic. I would welcome any comments at all regarding my work. After all what's the point of being a poet without critique. I have already received some amazing feedback. At present I'm just trying to find my way around the site.
    Look forward to meeting Many/All/None of you in due course. I've been very careful not to use any of those red words, although I'm pretty sure you could get them all into one poem.
    Kind Regards

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  • Mona Mia (1/19/2009 4:46:00 PM) Post reply

    Hello all. My name is Mona and I'm a new poet on this site. I would appreciate it if you all read my works and gave me some feedback. I greatly appreciate it.

  • Shey Marque (1/16/2009 11:04:00 PM) Post reply

    Hi all
    I've just published a short poem about a dream I had about Heath Ledger. Would really appreciate some feedback. Here's the direct link:


    Cheers, Shey

  • Asha Ariz (1/5/2009 7:02:00 PM) Post reply

    hai, i'm new in poemhunter..
    just post my 1st poem here, check it out..
    your valuable comment will b appreciated..

  • Linda Winchell (12/23/2008 5:14:00 PM) Post reply

    'A Finger In Your Nose'

    You shouldn't put your finger
    deep within your nose!
    It really doesn't look too sheik!
    and it's not where it should go!

    Now if your digging for gold nuggets!
    then your not digging where they're at!
    Your fingers are suppose to do other things
    like maybe tip or maybe tap?

    Now when you place a digit there
    deep where it can't be seen!
    You may pull out a big surprise
    something sticky and colored green!

    Linda Winchell

  • Linda Winchell (12/23/2008 10:59:00 AM) Post reply

    'Old Braided Rug'

    I found an old hand made braided rug
    at a thrifty store, the other day.
    It was quite a dirty sight to see
    with some of its edges frayde.

    I bought it up and rushed it home!
    to give this little rug, a gentle loving needed bath.
    And when it was cleaned, there was seen
    braided memories of someone's past.

    One braided rope weaved into another
    a child's pajamas or maybe a robe?
    Then an old flour bag, 'Velvet Flour'
    was the logo, in this rug they'd sewed.

    Then what looked to be a small center piece
    remnants of someone's wedding gown.
    I think they placed it there on purpose
    Sort of like this little rugs, jeweled crown.

    Memories of someone's life
    braided into this useful little rug.
    To place in front of a sink or bed
    giving where ever placed, a little braided hug.

    I don't know if anyone still makes them
    these journals of a persons past?
    But this little braided rug is now mine to treasure
    to be enjoyed as long as it will last.

    Linda Winchell

  • RHYME SONNY (12/23/2008 3:05:00 AM) Post reply

    check out poems by sonny rhyme...the son of rhymes and..........

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