Tag Archive | poetry

Love poetry challenge ~ 10 lines, 4 words per line with LOVE in each one

Darla over at New World Mom nominated me for a little poetry challenge, which originated on Brickhouse Chicks Blog. You can read Darla’s beautiful response to this fun challenge here

Initially, I thought it sounded like a fairly simple undertaking, but as I sat to write, it proved a bit harder than I’d anticipated! More than a few attempts were quickly tossed aside, especially after I took the time to read some of the other poems that had been written following the same guidelines.

I kept the three I hated the least 🙂

The rules are simple

•Write about love using only 10 lines.

•Use the word love in every line.

•Each line can only be four words long.

•Nominate others who are up for the challenge.

•Let them know about the challenge.

•Title the post: Love in Ten Lines

•Include a quote about love (this can be your own).

•You may write in any language.

custom-airbrushed-bleeding-heart-t-shirt

Mi amor, mi amor,

baneful love, unsheathed weapon,

mortiferous love, piercing armor.

Love fails, love falls,

battlefield casualty, mi amor.

Your love, or mine,

one love must endure.

Mi amore lives on.

I’m sorry, my love,

mi amore lives on.

“Love is a battlefield” Pat Benetar


locked-fingers

Sweetest love – unblemished, innocent,

untainted and virtuous love.

Love bestowed without expectation.

Love requited, without reservation,

without trepidation – pure love.

Intertwining hearts, palpable love.

New love, unparalleled enchantment.

First love, irreplaceable communion.

Such is the love

that teaches us love

“Love is a many splendored thing” William Waterway

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You are my love

my true, forever love.

Our love sustains me,

our love contains me.

Your love is precious,

your love is sure.

Your love strengthens me,

your love surrounds me.

My love is yours,

my love is yours . . .

“My heart is, and will always be, yours” Jane Austin – Sense and Sensibility

UPDATE – I forgot the noms! Letsee . . . I nominate, umm . . . Hmm. Letsee, oh! I know! I nominate YOU! All ya’all. Do it, it’s fun 🙂

Eleventy thousand things, cobwebs, poetic advice, & rhyme.

I have eleventy thousand things to do, that’s just a rough estimate, mind you, (eleventy is a thing, my thing) — by my estimation I have time enough to complete approximately three of these things, and this is assuming I remove myself from the computer reasonably soon.

Problem. I would rather write. Or read. Or nap. –sigh-

Of course, writing is among the eleventy thousand things I must do, and for some of this writing, looming deadlines are attached. I’ve already procrastinated past the point of saying it can wait one more day. Today is kind of that day. –ugh-

Since the new bloggy bit I would rather be writing is going to have to wait, I’m dusting off the cobwebs from one of my early posts, which was seen by five people according to the statistical analysis of The Qwiet Muse. Actually, I am going to kind of, sort of, merge two posts together since the subject matter fits, and now that I’ve read them, I find pieces and parts I want to change, fix, adjust, add to, and . . . –argh- no time.

Now I must be productive and responsible and –extended sigh- get to work . . . I am going to need more coffee.

Poetic Perfection?

Dance of Words by Crystal R. Cook

Is there truly such thing as a perfect poem? What reads like unblemished perfection to one, may not receive the same praises from another. Poetry is a subjective art. There are guidelines a writer can follow which may endear their words to a greater audience of readers. The words of a poem provide the reader sustenance with which they can quell their hunger, but the presentation, the way in which the writer chooses to craft their words upon a blank canvas, is important to a readers palate as well.

A poem needn’t be epic in length, think of the power the words of haiku hold.

Writer - Haiku - Crystal R. Cook

Poetry is something which comes from within, composition and form are secondary to the words which will bring meaning and life to the page, but important still. Poetry comes in many forms, perfect to one – nonsense to another. What matters is the author’s voice tickling the reader’s ear through the whispered words of the page.

You needn’t use big words or flowery verse, it doesn’t have to rhyme, and it doesn’t have to be explained; the words and the composition of them should suffice. Writing poetry can be healing, thought-provoking, and at times, profound to both the writer as well as the reader. The perfect poem is the one that touches your soul when you write it, and invites the reader to become one with your words.

Seeking release

The laureate lamented
for her words were skewed,
her altiloquence mistaken
as being quite rude.
Her style clinquant,
her affectation too much,
too many mistakes,
like catchfools and such.
Circumlocution
and too many clichés
made all of her readers
turn quickly away.
What she thought
to be eloquent
was really quite fustian;
due to forced rhyme
she lacked any . . . lyricism?
Pedantry ad nauseam,
not even done right,
left the young writer
feeling contrite.
She vowed to improve,
she promised to change
and pay more attention
how her words were arranged.
Convinced of her talent
she started again,
but was soon held up
by heteronyms.
She stopped and she sighed,
then she started to cry,
for her poetic juices
had completely run dry . . .

CRC

Simply awful with that bit of forced rhyme and the ridiculous use of unnecessarily big words. I must admit though, it was quite fun to write.

Poetry doesn’t have to rhyme. If you cannot rhyme well, you shouldn’t rhyme at all. Forced rhymes destroy what may otherwise be a fine piece of work. Rhymed poetry needs to have a rhythm; it needs to flow seamlessly as it is read. It needs to make sense.

If writing a rhymed piece, ideally each stanza should have the same amount of lines; the rhyme scheme needs to be consistent. There are several ways to craft a rhymed poem, once you’ve chosen your style, remain true to it throughout the piece, the jarring effect of switched up rhyme schemes can throw a reader off.

Every line in a poem does not need to be capitalized; many writers tend to do this, for the reader though, it is often hard to distinguish where one thought ends and another begins. A poem can have commas, periods, and question marks. These details can certainly serve to enhance your work; don’t be afraid to use them.

Poetic beauty is personal passion, as it is with any art. There are those who love and admire the work of Picasso and others who are perplexed and not attracted to it in the slightest, yet both recognize the value of the art itself.

Words never rest,
an endless dance
of thoughts
and epiphanies,
which must
be forgotten
or given
life eternal
upon a page.

Words
ease fear,
create terror,
heal, hurt,
make
insanity
the norm.

They never
cease,
they never
fade,
never fail,
never stop.

CRC

We Write by Crystal R. Cook

And because we spoke of rhyme . . .

Stymied by Rhyme?

Rhyme

To rhyme or not to rhyme, if you choose to rhyme, you must rhyme well, for if you don’t, it will sound like . . . Well, you understand don’t you?

From the Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce – RIME, n. Agreeing sounds in the terminals of verse, mostly bad. The verses themselves, as distinguished from prose, mostly dull. Usually (and wickedly) spelled “rhyme.”

When asked about English words without a rhyme, most will quite correctly say orange, purple and silver. There are actually many words in the English language lacking a partner in perfect rhyme.

If it’s true rhyme you’re looking for, you may want to steer clear of the words: anything, January, stubborn, apricot, dictionary and xylophone. Good luck with chaos, angry, hostage, rhythm, shadow, circus, crayon and glimpsed. Angst and empty, depth and width will be tough to rhyme, just like glimpsed and else and diamond and chocolate. Penguin and galaxy do not have any true rhymes, nor does elbow or engine, anxious or monster.

A perfect rhyme, sometimes referred to as true rhyme or full rhyme, is defined by the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language as; a rhyme in which the final accented vowel and all succeeding consonants or syllables are identical, while the preceding consonants are different, for example, great, late; rider, beside her; dutiful, beautiful.

Pure rhyme can be broken down even further. Words such as dog and log are single pure rhymes. Silly and willy would hence be referred to as double pure rhymes. An example of a triple pure rhyme would be mystery and history.

The longer the word, the harder it will be to find a perfect rhyme, this doesn’t mean they cannot be used in the context of rhyme however. Para-rhymes are defined as a partial or imperfect rhyme, often using assonance or consonance only, as in dry and died or grown and moon. This is also called half rhyme, near rhyme, oblique rhyme, slant rhyme or forced rhyme. This refers to words that do not completely rhyme, but use like sound to form the desired effect. A common example is the word discombobulate, to create a fluid sounding rhyme, three syllables must be utilized, populate would work well as a half rhyme in this instance. Hill and hell or mystery and mastery are examples of para-rhyme.

Masculine rhyme, or monosyllabic rhyme, is among the most common; this technique stresses the final syllable of each word, as in sublime and rhyme, or went and sent. Feminine rhyme differs in that the stress is on two or more syllables such as pleasure and treasure or fountain and mountain. Identical rhyme is simply using the same word twice.

There are various other examples of rhyme; eye rhyme is a rhyme consisting of words, such as lint and pint or love and move with similar spellings, but different sounds. Rich rhyme is a word rhymed with its homonym such as blue with blew, guest with guessed.

Scarce rhymes are words with limited rhyming alternatives like wisp and lisp, motionless and oceanless. Wrenched rhyme is the rhyming of a stressed syllable with an unstressed syllable as in words like lady and bee or bent and firmament.

Internal and external multi-syllable rhymes utilize the rhyming of more than one word, in this example, bleak and seek are internal rhymes; words within the body of the stanza, while night and light are external rhymes and fall at the end of a line.

So she found him
in the bleak of night,
lost on his quest
to seek the light.

Assonance rhyme is the matching of the vowel sounds, feast and feed, fever and feature. In syllable rhyme, the last syllable in each word is matching, pitter and patter, batter and matter. Consonance rhyme is matching the consonants in each word, her and dark. Alliteration is matching the beginning sounds of each word, often used in a series; perfect, poetic, personification.

Many people wrongly assume writing a rhymed poem is an easy task, until they actually try to write one, that is. There is much more to it than seeking words that rhyme, but we’ll discuss it at length some other time.

Crystal R. Cook

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My Favorite Things

Beauty and music, sunshine and light,
the wings of a dove softly rustling in flight.
The smell of the morning after summers rain,
crackling campfires and bubbling champagne.
Voices of children singing songs of praise,
the evening mist and long autumn days.
The changing of seasons, a moment of prayer,
goosebumps and laughter, my favorite chair.
Being lost in a moment, the voice of a friend,
being held in a hug I hope never ends.
The way my cheeks feel coming in from the cold,
the softness of hands as they begin to grow old.
Sincerity and honesty, faith, hope, and love,
knowing that God is somewhere above.
The presence of angels, a wonderful dream,
having a bowl of my favorite ice cream.
Snuggles and cuddles and soft babies feet,
that fleeting moment my house is tidy and neat.
Sweet memories to cherish, tears of sadness and joy,
pictures in albums, my childhood toy.
Sharing a secret, shouting out loud,
laying back in the sun, guessing shapes in the clouds.
Rain on the rooftop, silence so still,
meadows and forests, lacy frost on the sill.
The power of prayer, uninterrupted sleep,
making a promise I know I will keep.
Sitting and thinking of my favorite things,
like cupcakes and flowers and angels wings.
The innocent sweetness of loves first kiss,
and penning my thoughts to a page like this.
Crystal R. Cook

Casting Out & Letting Go

Nightmare in a bottle - Crystal R. Cook

I put my nightmare in a bottle
and I cast it out to sea,
I watched it ebb and flow
as it drifted back to me.

I filled it up with pebbles
from the sandy shore,
so certain it would sink,
I threw it out once more.

I waited and I watched
until it surfaced once again,
I snatched it from the water
and cursed it for its sin.

All the night I tossed it
into that lonesome sea,
through salty tears I prayed,
I would at last know peace

When the sun cracked the horizon,
I was spent of all my strength,
that nightmare in the bottle,
lay in the froth beside my feet.

I turned and walked away
as the tide began to grow,
it took away my nightmare,
and I did not watch it go.

My mother always told me to let go and let God, I’ve found this isn’t always easy to do. We tend to hang on to the very things we need to release, keeping ourselves bound to them.

We clutch them close and try to fix them on our own, we let them go only to take them right back. Instead of releasing them and moving forward, we nurture our pains and we feed our sorrows.

We wear our burdens like armor then ask God why we must bear the weight of them. The answer is so simple, yet so easily cast aside . . .

He is waiting for us to lay them at His feet and walk away.

Crystal R. Cook

Somehow Separate

Crystal R. Cook

Outside of myself.
Walking wide-eyed
through dreamless dream.
I feel the wind
tickle my skin,
I smell the neighbors
breakfast biscuits through
open kitchen windows,
My feet touch
the floor but,
I float, somehow
disconnected, watching me.
Thought and action askew,
the soundtrack in my mind
ever so slightly ahead or perhaps
the day forgot to begin on time.
Two planes of existence
struggling to coincide or
break away.
Discord.
Harmony disrupted.
Separating. Separated.
Separate.

Crystal R. Cook

 

You Painted Me a Picture

image
You painted me a picture once,
a long, long time ago.
The colors came to life,
and set the room aglow.
They danced within the shadows,
Did you see them there?
And, oh, the melody it sang, so sweet,
I still can hear it in the air.
It tenderly embraced me,
such warmth upon my skin.
I wish you’d written down those words
so I could hear them once again.

Crystal R. Cook

Take Refuge

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The self-appointed mighty
stand upon precarious pedestals
of judgment and power,
built from the ruins
of what could have been.

They placate the people
with empty platitudes
and false promises,
just enough to quell
their concerns
and keep them
from questioning
the hidden agendas
they do not want known.

The weak are so willing
to worship at this
looming altar of illusion,
carrion for the vultures
to fill their already
bloated bellies.

They spew proclamations
of progress carefully
crafted to deceive,
like snake oil
peddlers of old,
they sell their lies
and the people buy
without question,
it’s easier than thinking
for themselves.

They drink the Kool-Aide
while begging for more
even as the poison
consumes them.

A surrender of self
is underway,
conform or be cast out,
set adrift in a dying sea.

Stand up and be shot down,
speak up and be silenced.

You have the
right to listen
but no longer
the right to speak,
unless of course,
you’re reading
from their script.

They’ve lined
the citizens up,
filed them into
a maze, all
vying for some
non-existent prize.

Misguided and
delusional, dropped
into an inescapable
labyrinth, lab rats
bending to the will
of their captors,
easily manipulated,
completely expendable.

The puppet masters drool
as they watch their folly,
not even knowing
they’re attached to strings too.

With feigned disdain
they watch the innocent suffer,
quantifiable loss is ignored.

Mindless masses
frolic like fools,
but there’s a storm coming
and they refuse to take refuge.

The weatherman says
it will pass them by,
the weatherman is always right,
except when he’s wrong.

There’s a storm coming
and it’s going to rain.

Oh, how it will rain.

Crystal R. Cook