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Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop


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  • Ghendo Quicoy (5/5/2005 11:41:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    ANY SUGGESTIONS OR CORRECTIONS TO MY POEM BELOW? CAN YA ALL GUESS WHAT I'M FEELING RIGHT NOW? ......

  • Garry Brown (4/24/2005 5:24:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Any constructive criticism is very welcome regarding this poem:

    Tenant of the Eaves

    Then one day, after the pall of the freeze
    in the spring of the year, full blown with fragrant ease,
    there came a sparrow to my narrow eaves
    to weave a home out of some remnant leaves.

    The music of its silky throat was shrill
    and in the morning flew aloft to fill
    the waking and the drudge routine with joy,
    transcending the routine ennui employs.

    That music was an antidote to time.
    Clocks froze in the face of the sublime
    and warbling presence near the door
    as if unto a muse they would implore.

    Abolishment of memory's distinction
    between now, and what has passed and what will be
    seemed the purpose of this soft concatenation
    and the point of this wild tenant's melody.

    Then I was taken all at once away
    upon the lilting litany of song
    that ushered itself in before the day
    like the cardinal before the king in long

    and flowing robe of richest cloth
    trimmed in sparkling jewels and soft ermine.
    The king I mean; the cardinal is loathe
    to flaunt material and earthly fine

    for life is given him only to pass
    beyond the gawdy trappings of his task
    and endure a poverty of happiness
    reinforced by daily, flogging penance.

    I am no saint, nor man of spoken vows,
    yet I prefer my pleasures simple now
    and live as though I wait for something, too.
    Something, recalled in birdsong, I once knew,

    something dethroning time's proud majesty,
    fashioned out of innocence and light,
    which sings encomiums to nature's rite,
    and eulogies to all worldly loss of sight

    and disparages our heedlessness of sound-
    a rustling among the leaves or a rumbling of the ground-
    that speaks as if a father showing truth
    to a soul maliciously misguided by its youth

    Thanks in advance!

  • Dawson Smith (4/9/2005 1:51:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Falling into this hole,
    When I can’t feel the pain.
    The mark left on your soul,
    Once life has been slain.

    Never aware of such events,
    That cause so much devastation.
    The horror life represents,
    Into scales of escalation.

    Slow your moment of haste,
    When time feels wrong.
    Your feeling may be misplaced,
    Away from where it should belong.

    Needing to realize the desire,
    Beneath the layers of stone.
    While what I may admire,
    May mutate inside each bone.

    Move to the world of vitality,
    Where there lies no core.
    Left with the mark of mortality,
    As you’re left to explore.

  • Lee Ann Schaffer (4/6/2005 10:45:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies Stage

    I've done two versions of a poem, and would like to hear some feedback on which one ends up being the stronger, more effective one. By the way, I don’t intend any offence at all, but I’m really not interested in judgments passed on the sentiment, worthiness of subject matter, etc. It would make more sense if those comments were to appear with the final product in my poems that I’ve posted on my own pages. I simply want to know how the structure impacts the effect. Any comments in this regard will be greatly appreciated.


    Version I

    What is it that makes me
    Love the leaning tree?
    It slants so low that
    My dachshund climbs it without
    Creating many degrees of angle
    To the close ground below.

    It doesn’t look as a tree should;
    Those whose erect majesty
    Evoke admiration or
    At least benign neglect,
    Ignored because they are
    As they “should be”

    Its silhouette shapes
    The letter S, though one that’s
    Fallen almost on its fanny.
    That letter is my own initial.
    It’s me, that fallen figure
    That’s not yet flat.

    What malicious armies
    Tried to lay it so low?
    How many tempests,
    Deluges building
    Soil roiling,
    Forceful floods?

    Its roots are still
    Well grounded;
    Strong, firm, and
    Wide spreading.
    Its branches and leaves
    Grasp at sun and stars.

    It’s the tree
    That simply
    Refuses to give up;
    That’s bent,
    Never broken,
    That I want to be.


    Version II
    What is it makes me love the leaning tree?
    It slants so low my dachshund climbs without
    Creating angle with a large degree
    To ground so close below and spread about.

    It doesn’t look as trees are meant to look;
    Those who inspire through erect majesty
    Or beg benign neglect be undertook,
    Ignored because they are as they “should be”

    Its silhouette, the shape of letter S,
    Though one that on its fanny almost fell;
    Initial that should fit on me the best.
    A fallen figure, not yet flat, can tell.

    Malicious armies tried to lay it low.
    Came many tempests shaking more than buds;
    The winds that pulled the roots that sought to grow;
    Deluges building, roiling soil in forceful floods.

    Its roots are still well grounded, firm, and strong;
    They spread much wider than the wind could reach.
    It sends its leaves and branches up like song
    To heaven bound to thank and to beseech.

    It is the strength the leaning tree displays,
    Defiant in the face of all the trials,
    That makes me lift my feet on stormy days;
    I can have hope that I can walk the miles.

    Along the way some solace can I take
    In knowing that my prayers will blessings bring.
    Then after storms that bent but did not break,
    To all the gods my song of thanks I’ll sing.

    Replies for this message:
    • Leanna Stead (4/12/2005 11:56:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      I personally lean towards Version II as the stronger poem in terms of rhythm, expression, and tone. While the first is well executed, its broken lines indicative of an almost jagged meter. It is als ... more


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  • Ali Khorvash (3/29/2005 6:52:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    hello everybody!
    I want to suggest you read the poem: YOUR PHOTO by SHIRIN PARVARESH.
    I found that very very senseful and beautiful.
    Its rating is 9.1 (13 votes)
    so I invite you all too read it and submit your comments and vote.
    Im sure that you will enjoy it!
    Ali

  • Dr. A.celestine Raj Manohar Md (3/12/2005 7:58:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    This is a poem in 'iambic dimeter form'

    The Dancing Lass

    The dancing girl:
    She makes a whirl,
    And twists and turns
    In majesty;
    With gestures made
    For emotions,
    She walks in style
    And jumps awhile;
    In shiny garb
    Of silk: in hues
    And plaited hair,
    All flower-decked;
    With painted face
    And anklets belled;
    Bejeweled much,
    She moves with grace:
    So rhythmical
    To melody;
    In solo/groups,
    Gracefully stoops;
    She’s trained so hard
    A youthful star;
    Her soul in art,
    Enticing hearts:
    A dancing belle
    She does so well!

    Copyright by Dr John Celes
    2-9-2005

    Replies for this message:
    • Dan Redican (3/26/2007 8:41:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      Very nice. Dimetre is such a difficult form. There seem to be very few writers on this site who have much comprehension of the difficulties.

  • Lee Ann Schaffer (3/10/2005 11:34:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    To Andrew Philips

    I'm not sure what exactly you're feeling that makes it not right for you yet (I really like it by the way) , but without changing the content and only adding one new word, I could offer the following:

    A Stormy Day

    Out of the window,
    I look up; hope drifts by in
    jubilant gray puffs.


    That keeps your form and your content. It doesn't even remove you (by the use of the word 'I') from the poem. The only thing added is a sense of movement. Since I'm unsure of what you seek, I only respectfully offer a possibility. It's quite nice the way you've last drafted it.

    Replies for this message:
    • Andrew Philips (3/18/2005 8:09:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      Thanks for the advice. This poem was really a practice in juxapition (I no spel well) and the reason for my not being satisfied with it most probably has to do with my personal writing style. I have ... more

  • Andrew Philips (3/9/2005 8:19:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies Stage

    Here's a haiku of mine. It is one of my earlier ones.
    A Stormy Day

    Out of the window,
    looking up, I find hope in
    jubilant gray puffs.

    I'm not realy sure about this one. I have rewriten this one about five times now and it still desn't seem to work right. Any suggestions?

    Replies for this message:
    • Paul Slinski (3/11/2005 10:30:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies Stage

      It's quite simple isn't it? Out of the window looking up and finding hope. Jubilant gray puffs. It seems to be a problem with action. Second line. Looking up (past tense) and we move to ... more


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  • Dean Robinson (12/29/2004 12:24:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    I am a Christian and a Holy Spirit filled poet. I have been writing poems for ten years.(I am an Electrical Engineer turned poet) . I write classical poems and agree with your message. I have not received any training in writing poems. My goal is to write a book for my 11 children, so when I go to be with the Lord, they will have something from me to help their faith journey. My church has posted many of my poems on their website. I am also interested in getting training, but with my job and family, it is difficult to find time. Your thoughts would be appreciated. God bless you and your work.

    Replies for this message:
    • Dr. A.celestine Raj Manohar Md (1/20/2005 3:22:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      Dear Robinson, Actually, time is never a hurdle to writing poetry.Most of my poetry is by inspiration and I am an autodidact.I've believe strongly that Poetry is one thing that comes to minds and he ... more

  • Dr. A.celestine Raj Manohar Md (6/14/2004 3:13:00 AM) Post reply | Read 8 replies Stage

    Just to inform you all that I strongly believe that 'Old is Gold'! So is Classical Poetry! With all its Rhyme. Rhythm and Meter and other flavours, nuances and subtlities. As you are well aware, I've written enormous amount of poetry especially in Sonnet forms without undue difficulties.I've not found it to be montonous or drab. I've endeavoured to give variety of themes and body structure and end rhymes. Though the end rhymes may look repetitive, the poem as a whole just turns out to be attractive and magical! It all depends on your abilities, talents, innovativeness and dedication than the 'so-called' freedom of modern verse! ' It is my strong belief that more damage has been done to poetry in the name of making it modern and freeing it from the rules of the classical forms. I've found that classical poetry can still be written in a modified way in order to get over some of the disadvantages of rhyme and rhythm. Though I also believe in 'keeping in tune with the changes of the present world' I would still reiterate that rules should be followed as far as is possible and when there is violation, it should lead to new compositions. This is the crux of new creations- a truth I learnt in my last six years of poetic writings all on my own. Poetry is a gift of God and poets should refrain from overly diluting the art forms in the search for newer ones that serve to hold the younger generations in a trance. Classical forms are centuries old and their beauty cannot be replaced by the newer art forms that will 'come and go like the changing fashions of modern society'!
    love,
    Dr John Celes

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