Someone teach me poetry! Adrian, Louis, Banqou!

[HoreTore]

Or anyone else who might know of such things...

Now, i don't need help with words or anything like that, my question is rather simple:

How do you make the "rhythm" of the poem? How long should the lines be, how should the rhymes be constructed for a poem?

Think a small one, say 5 lines if that helps...

For those who may be wondering, yes, this is related to my previous thread...

[KukriKhan]

I'm no poet. Simple poem forms often not only rhyme, but repeat the number of syllables:

Willie, with a taste for gore (7 syllables)
Nailed his sister to the door (7 syllables)
His mother said, with humour quaint (8 syllables)
"Now Willie, dear, don't scratch the paint." (8 syllables)

The other guys you called on can get more into the 'art' of poetry.

[Adrian II]

Or anyone else who might know of such things...

Now, i don't need help with words or anything like that, my question is rather simple:

How do you make the "rhythm" of the poem? How long should the lines be, how should the rhymes be constructed for a poem?

Think a small one, say 5 lines if that helps...

For those who may be wondering, yes, this is related to my previous thread...Sample one hundred classic haiku's (from the Web or from a book or whatever) and read them time and again. They don't rhyme, they are made of pure rhythm and imagery.

[Fragony]

Bad start;

"Someone teach me poetry! Adrian, Banquo, Louis!"

[HoreTore]

Remember that you're talking to a commie here, Adrian...

Poetry isn't a commie thing. It seems like that also includes trying to search for forms of poetry on the internet...

[PershsNhpios]

I started a thread in hindsight,
Of poetry for those with minds bright,
It's long since dead,
But it can be said,
That a man from it can learn, quite!

[naut]

Poetry isn't easy, and if it was, well no one would write it anyway. ~;p

But, seriously, you can't as such "learn" poetry like you can bio-mechanics or something. It dwells in the realm of feeling and intuition. I couldn't give you a method or anything, but I'll try to point you in a helpful direction.

- Have a theme in mind (you've got that already)
- Find a quiet place to observe some happens, go for a walk in the woods, eavesdrop some conversations, etc; anything to get those creative juices flowing
- Read poems, decide what type of poem is suitable
- Then it comes down to simply writing, don't worry if it's not great at first, everybody's gotta start somewhere, just write and write and write, write down stuff that comes to your head, write down cute/witty phrases, write down words you've never heard before (that's what Roget is for)

For example:
And as I watch the angel flutter free,
To grasp ever, at what shall never be.

You get the idea. :balloon3:

[KukriKhan]

Bad start;

"Someone teach me poetry! Adrian, Banquo, Louis!"

But not horrible; they're both 7 syllable phrases. To make them rythmic, maybe change the order a bit:

Someone teach me poetry
Banquo, A-dri-an, Louie!
for I fear
I have no Peer
in lack of rhyming acu'ty

See? You can cheat, too: cutting words up (like 'acu'ty' for acuity) to complete the rhythm. The "rules" are very loose.

[naut]

See? You can cheat, too: cutting words up (like 'acu'ty' for acuity) to complete the rhythm. The "rules" are very loose.
Don't go overboard though, it has to be readable too.

[KukriKhan]

Don't go overboard though, it has to be readable too. Reminds me of anything I wrote 3-4 years ago. :laugh4:

Yup. If language (and specifically: English) were an automobile, I'd be just a word-mechanic, compared to you other guys: word-engineers, word-craftsmen, and word-designers.

[Adrian II]

Someone teach me poetry
Banquo, A-dri-an, Louie!
for I fear
I have no Peer
in lack of rhyming acu'ty
There once was a fine moderator
Whose rhyme was of an uncertain nature.
He said ‘What the heck,
Adrian covers my back,
He’ll slap it into a limerick later’



Remember that you're talking to a commie here, Adrian...Watch me.



Proletarians
Wrestling in the virgin snow
Class conscious snowballs

Arrianu-san, 2008

[Rhyfelwyr]

Proletarians
Wrestling in the virgin snow
Class conscious snowballs

Arrianu-san, 2008


That brought a tear to my eye.

My poetry always rhymed, but the teacher never liked it. :shrug:

[LeftEyeNine]

You can waste your being an artist if you don't practice your skills. But you can not make yourself one by trying hard.

[HoreTore]

You can waste your being an artist if you don't practice you skills. But you can not make yourself one by trying hard.

Hey, I'm not talking about becoming a master here!

Just being able to a little...

[LeftEyeNine]

Just being able to a little...

...which will "shine" from miles. Sorry I'm not trying to be a ******* here but this is the essence of anything related to art. If you don't have it naturally, your efforts will somehow reflect "eheh, no no, not bad at all heheh" kinda reactions. However if you're not going for some contest or stuff, it wouldn't hurt giving a shot. :bow:

[PershsNhpios]

That poem on the Proletarian,
Was written, I think, by an Aryan,
I won't insult,
We're all adult,
But it had a style barbarian.

[Adrian II]

That poem on the Proletarian,
Was written, I think, by an Aryan,
I won't insult,
We're all adult,
But it had a style barbarian.
Sorry to breach so abruptly Apollo’s parameter
Naught shall I rhyme again but in dactylic pentameter

[Samurai Waki]

The Ill fortunes of my writing I must acquiesce
forlorn of hope a poet that is guided by the lines
Except through the heart from where the words flow

[Sigurd]

If you want to impress a girl, make a Calligraphy of Sonnet 18:
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Be sure to be able to explain it when she asks.
It will give you a star in her book.

[Beirut]

I saw this thread and came to see
If by perchance you had mentioned me
But lo behold my name was not
Amongst the names I was forgot
So now you've gone and hurt my mind
With expressions expressing expressly unkind
I have no choice for the choice it is clear
I must drown my sorrows in sorrowful beer
The first will wash away the doom
The second will take away all of the gloom
The third will set spinning the walls of the room
The fourth will have me in regurgitational bloom
As I lie on the floor my stomach upsetted
My brain all a tizzy my mind all a shredded
In this cruel life that some call a game
All I remember is that you forgot my name

:embarassed: urp...

[seireikhaan]

I saw this thread and came to see
If by perchance you had mentioned me
But lo behold my name was not
Amongst the names I was forgot
So now you've gone and hurt my mind
With expressions expressing expressly unkind
I have no choice for the choice it is clear
I must drown my sorrows in sorrowful beer
The first will wash away the doom
The second will take away all of the gloom
The third will set spinning the walls of the room
The fourth will have me in regurgitational bloom
As I lie on the floor my stomach upsetted
My brain all a tizzy my mind all a shredded
In this cruel life that some call a game
All I remember is that you forgot my name

:embarassed: urp...
A poem about getting wasted... that's new. :2thumbsup:

[Adrian II]

Well, since I’m already rumoured to be a barbarian
Sigurd will no doubt be labelled a stuffy librarian.
Beirut in turn will be scoffed as a rapping eclectic.
Shouldn’t we all just return to the Greek sense of metric?
:bounce:

[Husar]

I just came here to troll a bit,
Now listen to what LEN just said,
I wholeheartedly agree with that,
You can't just "buy" your wit.

[Beirut]

My dearest dear Adrian, that is Adrian the Second
To your bold caustic wit our attentions are beckoned
Your abilities, sir, are depthly and neat
Rotund in expression, yet in essence so sweet
Could we sink ever low and as vultures with carrion
Declare you, our friend, to be naught but a barbarian
In fact to us you are an emotional crutch
Your name may be Second but you're our First favorite Dutch

:beatnik2:

[pevergreen]

I wanna be, the very best,
that no one ever was
to catch them is my real test
to train them is my cause

POKEMON

ITS YOU AND ME
I KNOW ITS MY DESTINY

POKEMON

OOOOOH You're my best friend
In a world we must defend!

Pokemon!

[LeftEyeNine]

One little, two little, three little Clintons
Four little, five little, six little Clintons
Seven little, eight little, nine little Clintons
Ten little Clinton girls

Ten little, nine little, eight little Clintons
Seven little, six little, five little Clintons
Four little, three little, two little Clintons
One litte Clinton girl

[Adrian II]

My dearest dear Adrian, that is Adrian the Second
To your bold caustic wit our attentions are beckoned
Your abilities, sir, are depthly and neat
Rotund in expression, yet in essence so sweet
Could we sink ever low and as vultures with carrion
Declare you, our friend, to be naught but a barbarian
In fact to us you are an emotional crutch
Your name may be Second but you're our First favorite Dutch

:beatnik2:Beirut, your veins overflow with the nectar of Muses
Richer in scent than the myrrh which Apollo bequeathed us.
Yet, from the title we gather that Banquo’s Epiphany
Forthwith is summoned along with King Louis’ rotundity.
Bearing already such laurels as Fate intersperses
Let us rejoice in the thought of their forthcoming verses. :sneaky:

[PershsNhpios]

The state of this thread is appauling,
And one's ears are in for a mauling,
If anyone quotes,
From these Don Quixotes,
And the culture therein that is falling.

[Geoffrey S]

Thread title implies that you've got talent for a musical... ~;)

[Moros]

Read, feel, write.

[Beirut]

The only part of this thread that's appalling
Is when there are rhymes that always are stalling
That when time after time
They crash at five lines
'Cause at six the pen's too heavy for hauling

[PershsNhpios]

Alright Beirut I admit,
From Limericks I rarely quit,
But at least when I write,
My rhythm is quite,
Perfect, while yours is unfit.

But if you wish I'll change my style,
To a speed more of your liking,
And I dare you then to retort me,
'Cause I'll send you off a-hiking.

[Beirut]

I can hike forever, dear sir
And I regard you not as a cur
There's no need to change style
(At least not for a while)
But on people's poems please do not slur

[cmacq]

Right, you want the rhythm, without the rhyme? So let's try the uneven beat of the flatdrum, shall we?

Tell Them Only What They Want To Hear
Concealed, on timbers perched high above their heads, were intertwined the always watchful sight of Ohum’s subtle threads.
And faintly now, rune-marked here and there on twisted grains denote a cruel hint of this old rogue’s, intent.
Hither, an unstrung bow with jagged darts strode by, and yonder, a knotty club soundly held sauntered just beyond the eye, as amber chains clatter ever after.
If truth, were never spoke, these countless golden ties bond kicking throngs that pulled, begged, and burled each mortal plight, into one distorted cord.
For extended, each treasured link ran back from every ear and in due course, affixed the mighty dulcet ring that pierced Ohum’s silver tongue.
As now it’s often told, that with a steady tug he heaps a never ending queue of human souls, to stave the Otherworld’s infernal cold.
Sent here, to serve as warmth and light, chopped up as kindling, sat upon the hearth, and in the end consumed...

...as firewood stokes the need, and a hellish flame burns bright.

----------------------------------------------------------

Right, I figure that's not quite five lines, but it will do donkey...

...it will do.

[PershsNhpios]

Dear me, silly fiend!
Rhythm from the rhyme you've gleaned!
But the latter has been left behind,
Please try to take the two and bind,
them in a verse more kind.

Was that nice enough my dear Beirut?
I've changed my tune and words to boot!
But I doubt if the author has learnt a song,
As I think, it seems he's long since gone..

And I don't want to try and steal the thread,
But I'd love to play with English in his stead,
So if no one minds I'll tag along,
Though you have no choice whilst I do no wrong.

[cmacq]

Glenn chip chip old bean, its just the story of Ogmios. Given the topic, I thought it only fitting.

[Beirut]

And I don't want to try and steal the thread,
But I'd love to play with English in his stead,
So if no one minds I'll tag along,
Though you have no choice whilst I do no wrong.

T'is a lovely song you voice
You sing it with grace and poise
But let us put it to bed
and just say instead
That if you do no wrong then you've lost your choice

~;p

[cmacq]

The state of this thread is appauling,
And one's ears are in for a mauling,
If anyone quotes,
From these Don Quixotes,
And the culture therein that is falling.


I say, you very nearly had yourself another, Gwyr Harlech, there for a moment?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hz9_ELpil9w

[Rhyfelwyr]

Poetry
Posted on an internet forum
Best Haiku EVAR!

[cmacq]

HoreTore


In A Nutshell and By the Numbers
First, get your basic story-line in good order; word for word. Second, arrange your lines within each stanza by deciding on a pattern/patterns of duration therein, which will be considered your rhythmic unit/units and altogether will be your poetic metre. Third, adjust the language of each line, while retaining your intent, according the phonetic value of each word using their; pitch (or tone), degree of stress, and syllabic length, to fit your rhythm. Forth, I think I'm leaving something out or, as is my nature, I'm just trivializing the complex while complicating the mundane?

Hope this may be of some help.

[HoreTore]

Believe it or not; this thread actually did help me :smash:

I basically followed Adrian and rythmic's advise, with some modification due to me being poeticly challenged... I found a poetry book, and found one who had the rythm I wanted, then I shamelessly borrowed that and wrote in my own words.


Now impatiently awaiting a reaction...

Oh, and as a bonus, I sent it by snail-mail :yes:

No, I won't post what I wrote here, first of all because it's in norwegian and you wouldn't understand it anyway, secondly because I know you're all lovely people.

(Language - Beirut)

[Adrian II]

Believe it or not; this thread actually did help me :smash: Patience, patience.. it's too early to tell, isn't it.
[..] I know you're all lovely people.[/SIZE]Yup. I wouldn't publish such stuff here either. Unless of course it was pornographic in nature.

It your poem pornographic? :mellow:


(Edited quote - Beirut)

[HoreTore]

Patience, patience.. it's too early to tell, isn't it.Yup. I wouldn't publish such stuff here either. Unless of course it was pornographic in nature.

It your poem pornographic? :mellow:

Nah, sorry... Unless you count housewife-porn, I suppose...

Got a reaction, she said she was "speechless". Doubt the quality of it mattered at all, it was more of the gesture itself... And whoever says snail-mail is useless these days can take a hike.

And due to the great success, it will be repeated... You wouldn't happen to have some poem-resources online, Adrian?

[Adrian II]

And due to the great success, it will be repeated... You wouldn't happen to have some poem-resources online, Adrian?No. But I seem to remember a line in your other thread where you said:
I have treated her like dirt. It hurts to say that, but it's true.Now I may be mistaken, but I believe there is a lesson in there somewhere. A good subject for your next poem might be your feelings about that situation. I couldn't possibly tell you how to handle that. It's between you and her. Good luck. :bow:

[Kamakazi]

roses are red violets are blue
sugar is sweet
and i hate dog poo


sorry i had a random moment

[cmacq]

Right then, just bored and very tired.

A Stranger at the Feast
The wise are want to say, what a person sees is ruled more, by how they slept the other night, or what was eat the day before. So as a mystery-meat was dropped, into a pot to stew above an open flame, the stranger’s form was boiled down to it’s outline, by every eye in range. Then this stark frame was refilled with designs that only idol minds can crave. Thus, as food for thought the visitor stirred up a course, which seemed to say more than verbs might ever spark. For good or ill was not instilled, exactly what fare this eve would take. Was this shadow-shape holy sent with gift in hand, or a demon bent on plague?


And then he sleeps...