INFORM POETS – INTERNAL RHYME

So here we are, still battling this scourge, taking precautions and surviving. Some of us are going about life under “new” guidelines, but as “normal” as we can get. Some of us were (are) stuck inside for a period of time. We have become internal. So why not play with internal rhyme. Sure, it’s not actually a “form” but it gets us out of the confines of a rigid form (we’ve had enough of that). Play with your words today and let loose. We could sure use it!

Subject matter: does not matter.

Just inject some sound somewhere inside.

 

61 thoughts on “INFORM POETS – INTERNAL RHYME

  1. Silly Wherefore Art Thou

    What has happened to silly,
    that willy-nilly, slightly
    frilly state of giggling quite
    shrilly until you very nearly
    lose your breath?
    When words like piccalilli
    or vanilli leave us
    in a dilly due
    to really, really
    watery eyes. Oh, how
    we need some silly.

  2. Corona Crazy

    5/6/20

    Stuck in the house after all these weeks
    ready to fall into depression.
    I begin to climb a wall, but refrain.
    Instead, call a friend
    and bawl out my frustrations.

  3. HOW TO MEND A BROKEN HEART, by Walter J Wojtanik

    Heartaches and confusion
    lost in love’s illusion,
    the fusion of pain and longing,
    a deep burrow into a soul so burdened.

    Learning that the end of loving liaisons
    coincides with the death of that phase
    of a life dedicated to an amorous fait accompli,
    from your knees it looks insurmountable.

    But, how to make the tables turn?
    You learn that love never dies, it burns
    smoldering internally for eternity,
    a lingering and lurid ember aglow.

    You come to know that every end begins
    and every abandoned heart wins
    another chance to dance unbridled, never idle;
    always keeping lethargic feet in motion.

    On the odd notion that love will never more
    grace your open door; never soar to the heights
    once aspired, and only be mired deep within,
    choose to begin, find a common bond of which you’re fond

    and reach out for the hand that helps and
    heals heaped up hearts and sorry souls
    tinkering with the broken and battered matter
    until a distinct beat is discerned. It is then

    you will have learned to love again.
    So remain as a friend, open to the possibilities,
    with the responsibilities to just repair;
    a valued new direction for your heart waits there.

  4. Gold and Green

    Gold and green, colors of spring
    thoughts that flit on petrel’s wings
    flit, flutter, fluster and flail
    fears and hopes on windy trails
    embraced by an amplitude
    of lassitude
    my lids droop
    eyes refuse
    to stay open
    and I sink
    into a sea of
    ebony ink
    that swirls
    with vivid hues
    jonquil gold
    and lady’s mantle
    chartreuse… zzzzz

  5. .

    Sublime Crime

    I find rhyme sublime
    But still don’t rhyme every time
    That would be a crime

  6. Out and About

    I did not choose to hide inside
    Oh no, my friend, this all must end
    The outside sun is where it’s fun
    I will break stride and go outside

    I will not be locked down you see
    With mask in hand I’ll roam this land
    From strangers I’ll stay far away
    This pandemic will not make me sick

    Of course I pray every single day
    That this virus will not get us
    I’ll pray for you in all you do
    That God will kill this C-19

  7. A
    True
    Story

    From the halls of Montezuma to a hedge-lined nursery, I’d no idea what it was, what was happening to me. It was a beautiful day, early in May, children at play, free to be free. There were flags unfurled to a mid-Spring breeze, no reasons to fret, and all was at ease. Such a sunny scene, no fear of showers, no nerves at work, I was just buying flowers. Suddenly it hit me, bright lights, roaring sound, the flowers went flying, me too, to the ground, with chest beating wildly, gasping for air, no idea what to do, I just had to leave there. Eventually I calmed, tried looking back, realized this wasn’t the first such attack, with thoughts of death, pure fight or flight, with no clue as to cause, try as I might. Later, in treatment, I learned what it was, it became all too obvious, the reasons, the cause. The children that day were all Vietnamese, no danger to me, nor their families, but that has little to do with the truth, don’t you see, there’s no logic to emotions in PTSD. I’m better now, but I’ll never be free. It’s a life sentence, this thing, this PTSD. I have coping skills now to assist, and people who know, and little by little, it improves as I grow,, a little bit older, a lot more wise, so now when the attacks start, I just close my eyes, notice my breathing, count the beats of my heart. It’s not a total solution, but hey, it’s a start.

  8. Heart Rates and Pocket Watches

    I do believe I am
    quite late, said
    the rabbit listening
    to his rate of internal
    time, whose pocket watch
    does not remind him
    of appointments for
    tea parties, where
    niceties are generally
    done away with, you see.
    Although he would far
    rather be at a mad tea
    than summoned by the insane
    Red Queen of Hearts.

  9. A TALE TOLD IN OLD BROOKLYN

    There once was an old trolley dodger
    named Roger, the son of a bodger;
    his one claim to fame
    was his shame at his name,
    which made Roger the dodger a codger.

  10. Strangely, the weather is the same as when the Black Plague arrived in England in 1349.

    A 20.20 View of 1349

    Autumn rain.
    Winter rain.
    April dry.
    The sheep suffer
    with the rot again.
    May drier still.
    Nothing
    will be ploughed.
    Crops fail, and
    moss hangs bare
    as lanky hair.
    Our deep discontent.
    The plague’s arrived.

  11. I like the use of, ‘our deep discontent.’ Here it rained and was windy almost all winter. Today was a rare beautiful day of 65, and by tomorrow night it will go down to freezing with possible snow. Wild, right?

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