like that Babel-like confusion of tonguesAaaaah! Damned Babel'tower !!!
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Rhyme And Verse
- Thread starter Wragg
- Start date
Oh Wragg, thank you! Thank you so much for including my little poem on your thread., though it hardly merits inclusion.
I was catching up on the thread, started reading this post, and said to myself "Hey, that sounds familiar!"
Now that I've read it over a few times since I posted it some months ago, I wish I had included some lines, deleted some, reworked others. As Messa said above it is very hard finding all the right words to express our thoughts, our inspirations, our fantasies...
It's a great poem, Roxie, it could stand a version 2 - go on, have a go!
So as not to arouse the wrath of our Top Predator 
Give me the Cane
for my first taste of pain,
then I'll strip
for the Whip.
Is a specimen of an under-used mini-form, the clerihew,
consisting of a pair of rhyming couplets, AABB,
whose metre can - indeed preferably should - be less than strict.*
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clerihew
The point is to say something brief, pithy and (hopefully) witty
in as few words as possible.
*mine is of course an iambic dimeter,
followed by an anapaestic dimeter,
and a pair of anapaestic monometers.
Give me the Cane
for my first taste of pain,
then I'll strip
for the Whip.
Is a specimen of an under-used mini-form, the clerihew,
consisting of a pair of rhyming couplets, AABB,
whose metre can - indeed preferably should - be less than strict.*
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clerihew
The point is to say something brief, pithy and (hopefully) witty
in as few words as possible.
*mine is of course an iambic dimeter,
followed by an anapaestic dimeter,
and a pair of anapaestic monometers.
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Pp is grateful for the new lesson in another form so under-used. Perhaps the university education of scientists should be broadened with some literature. He would have tried to rewrite in something more rhythmic to his ear.So as not to arouse the wrath of our Top Predator
Give me the Cane
for my first taste of pain,
then I'll strip
for the Whip.
Is a specimen of an under-used mini-form, the clerihew,
consisting of a pair of rhyming couplets, AABB,
whose metre can - indeed preferably should - be less than strict.*
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clerihew
The point is to say something brief, pithy and (hopefully) witty
in as few words as possible.
*mine is of course an iambic dimeter,
followed by an anapaestic dimeter,
and a pair of anapaestic monometers.
Last edited:
faragastderndingle
Condemned
“The Crimson King’s Grave” by Oliver Brooks.
The dark waters of the Riverdaughters’ stream
Wander slowly through the sunlit fields
Great oaks centuries old gather over her banks
And blink slowly with greenery trailing
Over their brown, liquid, woody eyes,
Watching and waiting for who knows
What ancient rhythm of nature -
The harsh croaks of a murder of crows
Suddenly present in a blizzard of inky wings
Perching on the massive black marble slabs
Of the Crimson King’s sarcophagus
Aions aged, cracked with the grasping fingers
Of the mighty trees, spirits of His men-at-arms,
Now long gone, not even a memory of their passing,
Except for the Riverdaughter, with her lap
Full of moss, remembering days
Of daisy chains and a fertile moon
And laughter in His arms, His child
At her milk-white breast, now sailing
In a star-ship through the later evening skies,
Her peace now in the arms of The Light of the World
The way, the truth, the life, the New God,
The Risen Christ, his blood-red roses
Cloak her naked sleeping body
Caressed by the passing Sun.
The dark waters of the Riverdaughters’ stream
Wander slowly through the sunlit fields
Great oaks centuries old gather over her banks
And blink slowly with greenery trailing
Over their brown, liquid, woody eyes,
Watching and waiting for who knows
What ancient rhythm of nature -
The harsh croaks of a murder of crows
Suddenly present in a blizzard of inky wings
Perching on the massive black marble slabs
Of the Crimson King’s sarcophagus
Aions aged, cracked with the grasping fingers
Of the mighty trees, spirits of His men-at-arms,
Now long gone, not even a memory of their passing,
Except for the Riverdaughter, with her lap
Full of moss, remembering days
Of daisy chains and a fertile moon
And laughter in His arms, His child
At her milk-white breast, now sailing
In a star-ship through the later evening skies,
Her peace now in the arms of The Light of the World
The way, the truth, the life, the New God,
The Risen Christ, his blood-red roses
Cloak her naked sleeping body
Caressed by the passing Sun.
faragastderndingle
Condemned
The Riverdaughter's Rhythm
Wild poppies and resinous hemps grow
Where the Riverdaughter lets fall her blood
Her Moon is come, and the scent of her fertility
Is sharp in the nostrils of the horse and kine
That wander the fields by her riverbank.
The autumn grasses are as faded and fair
As the Riverdaughter’s long hair, and
The scarlet of the poppies is as dark
As the drying menstrual blood on her thighs,
Her Rhythm calls the All-Father Pan
His Seat on the Rock by the ancient Oak
His Fire of hemp, blue sweet smoke
That the Riverdaughter following her nose
With Grace borne of her sexuality
Brings her before the God of Living Things
An open invitation clear in her soft gray eyes
Her Mother is the Earth and Pan is her Father,
In Natures Way he plants His seed in her
With His erect sex quickening her belly
With strangest offspring, what child
Can it be, this union of Father and Daughter?
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Wild poppies and resinous hemps grow
Where the Riverdaughter lets fall her blood
Her Moon is come, and the scent of her fertility
Is sharp in the nostrils of the horse and kine
That wander the fields by her riverbank.
The autumn grasses are as faded and fair
As the Riverdaughter’s long hair, and
The scarlet of the poppies is as dark
As the drying menstrual blood on her thighs,
Her Rhythm calls the All-Father Pan
His Seat on the Rock by the ancient Oak
His Fire of hemp, blue sweet smoke
That the Riverdaughter following her nose
With Grace borne of her sexuality
Brings her before the God of Living Things
An open invitation clear in her soft gray eyes
Her Mother is the Earth and Pan is her Father,
In Natures Way he plants His seed in her
With His erect sex quickening her belly
With strangest offspring, what child
Can it be, this union of Father and Daughter?
Like
Comment
Share
Active