Rhyme poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best rhyme poems ever written. Read all poems about rhyme.
For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Romance, who loves to nod and sing,
With drowsy head and folded wing,
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
Once upon a time
I caught a little rhyme
I set it on the floor
Not marble nor the gilded monuments
Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time.
Go in through the eyes of a poet
deep into her alphabet mind.
Ideas like flotsam and jetsam
dodge poetry fragments and lines.
The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones on the hill;
The graveyard draws the living still,
But never anymore the dead.
The sentencing goes blithely on its way
And takes the playfully objected rhyme
As surely as it takes the stroke and time
In having its undeviable say.
When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights,
Down the road someone is practising scales,
The notes like little fishes vanish with a wink of tails,
Man's heart expands to tinker with his car
For this is Sunday morning, Fate's great bazaar;
Had I the choice to tally greatest bards,
To limn their portraits, stately, beautiful, and emulate at will,
Homer with all his wars and warriors--Hector, Achilles, Ajax,
Or Shakespeare's woe-entangled Hamlet, Lear, Othello--Tennyson's fair ladies,
Who will believe my verse in time to come
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts:
How many bards gild the lapses of time!
A few of them have ever been the food
Of my delighted fancy,—I could brood
Over their beauties, earthly, or sublime:
There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
Time and time and time
i've sought a perfect rhyme
time and time and time
My answers are inadequate
To those demanding day and date
And ever set a tiny shock
Through strangers asking what's o'clock;
Uniquely different, you and I
But, doing as we damn well please
We're products of intelligent design
No settling for mediocrity
I BRING you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams,
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-grey sands,
THERE is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath
When you are passing;
TRANSLATIONS OF THE OLDEST RHYMING POEMS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE
These are translations of some of the oldest rhyming poems in the English language. While the focus is on early English rhyming poems, there is a section on early rhyming poems from other languages at the bottom of this page. The oldest Old English (i.e., Anglo-Saxon) poems did not rhyme, but were alliterative and used repetition of consonant and vowel sounds to create word-music. For example:
A Long Wait (Ghazal)
Ghazal--The form is thought to have developed from Persian street challenges and is a shorter,
single themed descendant of the Qasida. The predominant theme is love both earthly and spiritual
which the ghazal explores with imagination and fantasy.
The seeking that will answer the call,
To begin in life, you must fall,
For in such a fall, rises your searching,
For an emotion, where lies the birth
the words fade into the mist
To write rhymes one does not need any literary degrees
Just to know that trees always does rhyme well with breeze
And tight in rhyme never does go well with loose
And moose always does seem to go well with goose
The days of the rhymers are in the long gone
And rhymers today as ever rhyming on
Though without any hope of knowing of literary renown
Today there are rhymers in every village and city and town
I will not be alive for the rebirth of rhyme
But i have a strong feeling that in some future time
The writers of rhyme will be hailed as a poetess or poet
And be looked on as worthy of literary note
A true rhymer never does run out of rhyme
Though eventually she or he runs out of time
Long after their best mental and physical years have gone
The writers of rhyme they does keep rhyming on
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