VersaTility - Rhyme & Rhythm

Embellishment

2010-05-04T23:27:00.000-07:00

One two

I buckle the truth

Three four

I warp it some more

Five six

I give it a twist

Seven eight

I'll never be straight

Nine ten

exaggeration

I love with this poem how one five syllable word can be used that fits the meter of the poem.

Giggle Poetry

2009-11-21T23:52:00.000-08:00

A PREPOSITION HUNT

We’re hunting prepositions
Where ever could they be?
Over the mountain
Under the bridge
Or up the apple tree

We’re hunting prepositions
We’ve got a Hessian sack
We’ve been around the murky swamp
And crept along the track

We’re hunting prepositions
We’ve dug beside the rose
We’ve crawled among the prickles
Getting thorns between our toes.

We’re hunting prepositions
We’ve looked behind the shed
We’ve peered inside the wardrobe
And underneath the bed.

We’re hunting prepositions
We’re getting hot and sticky
A preposition hunt is fun
It’s finding them that’s tricky

When I wrote 'A Preposition Hunt' I had the education market in mind. I thought that teaching students about prepositions through rhyme a very funny idea particularly as I'd managed to successfully sell a poem to The School Magazine about multiplying by zero.

And a question - Have you ever used rhyme to teach another concept? I'd love to hear about it if you have.

To bend the truth

2009-10-06T18:57:00.000-07:00

The truth can be buckled

perverted or bent

Embellished or trimmed

to disguise what you meant

Twizzled and twisted

Misrepresentation

Distorted in gross altered

amplification

What is a Spiderling?

2009-08-31T23:16:00.000-07:00

Under a log
From round woolly sacks
An untidy web hatches baby red-backs

In fourteen days
And fourteen nights
Red-back spiderlings take to flight

By the light of the moon
Through a rustle of leaves
Red-back spiderlings float on the breeze

Flimsy and weightless
Like bubble bath foam
Red-back spiderlings search for a home

Free to discover
What destiny brings
Left to their fate red-back spiderlings

The Beach

2009-06-28T22:01:00.000-07:00

The beach is like an empty slate
A hungry child
That cannot wait
Eager for the day’s surprises
Feasts of feet, all different sizes

Squid boats see the day begin
Pumpkin sun
with fiery grin
licks the dunes with orange glow
as I’m poised on tippy-toe

Sandy canvass meets the shore
Waits to see
what I will draw
One step, two step round it goes
Swirls with sand between the toes

Soon, with artists all around
Footsteps flash
across the ground
Squealing children in the sun
Painting patterns as they run

Time to go it’s getting late
Waving waves
refuse to wait
Slowly, slowly up they creep
Wipe the slate with one clean sweep

Bedraggled

2009-05-07T21:18:00.000-07:00

A paw in a puddle
A cat in a muddle
She tiptoes in vain
to get out of the rain
And howls at the door
to loudly complain

Wet to the skin
Looking comically thin
We fluff her and puff her
and wrap her in towels

ignoring her howls as
she wriggles and squirms
we each take our turn
to ensure that her fur
is as soft as her purr

Poetic Terminology

2009-03-22T20:08:00.000-07:00

Recently I have been trying to understand, in a technical sense, what it is I do by ear alone. I have been writing and editing rhyming poems/stories in verse for quite a few years now and I know what sounds good but I've never really understood why it sounds good. Of course what I am talking about is meter - the rhythm of language, our language.

Meters are regularized rhythms. An arrangement of language in which the accents occur at apparently equal intervals in time. Each repeated unit of meter is called a foot. A foot then is made up of two or more syllables that together make up the smallest unit of rhythm in a poem.

The easiest to way to explain, I think, is by example. In the English language there are five common feet...

Iamb– 2 syll - a-VOID; pre-TEND; the RUSH (unstressed followed by stressed)

Trochee– 2 syll - ON-ly; TO-tal (stressed followed by unstressed).

Spondee– 2 syll - SHOE-SHINE (equally accented).

Anapest- 3 syll - in-ter-VENE; for-a-WHILE (two unstressed followed by one stressed).

Dactyl-3 syll - MER-ri-ly; LOV-er boy (one stressed followed by two unstressed).

Rising Meter

Anapaestic and iambic meters are called rising meters because they move from an unstressed syllable to a stressed syllable.

Falling Meter

Trochaic and dactylic meters are called falling meters because they move from stressed to unstressed syllables.

Rhythm

Rhythm can be measured in poetry in terms of stressed to unstressed syllables and it is measured in feet.

When we analyse the poem below - The Old House we discover that it provides an example of trochaic tetrameter. (tetrameter = 4 feet)

The Old House can be classified as trochaic because each foot consists of 2 syllables, one accented syllable followed by one unaccented one.

You will also note that the last syllable is often omitted to end the line with an accented syllable or as you'll see in verse 1, the unaccented syllable commences the next line but doesn't interfere with the rhythm as we are expecting an unaccented syllable to follow the previous accented one.

In a trochaic line of verse, a line thus shortened is termed catalectic (see verse 2 for a perfect example of this.)

The Old House in trochaic tetrameter.

Driving / on the / country / road

With heavy / eyes in / sleepy / mode

Ghostly / fingers / creep to/wards

The house with / peeling / weather/boards

Nestled / snug be/neath the / hill

Peeling / paint from / window/sill

Flakes like / dandruff / crack and / fall

Etched ne/glect on / every / wall

If you'd like to continue analysing the rest of the poem, please feel free to do so.

The Old House

2009-02-19T15:12:00.000-08:00

The Old House

Driving on the country road
With heavy eyes in sleepy mode
Ghostly fingers creep towards
The house with peeling weatherboards

Nestled snug beneath the hill
Peeling paint from windowsill
Flakes like dandruff crack and fall
Etched neglect on every wall

Windows weep their tattered lace
Stare beyond the weathered face
Seeking times before the haze
Rest on memory’s happy days

Barking dogs and laughing smiles
Echoed dreams across the miles
Nimble fingers worked towards
Freshly painted weatherboards

Now as distance waves goodbye
A puppy yapps at starry sky
While ancient man with youthful stride
Tips his hat and goes inside

To Catch a Dewdrop

2009-02-01T18:52:00.001-08:00

Between the wooden fence posts
Is where to set your net
Though best to try to make one of your own
You’ll need the smallest needle
And the most exquisite thread
For it must be the finest ever sewn

Imagine you’re creating
Reams of silken fairy lace
Each stitch must be exact without exception
Then hang it from the fence posts
Like a veil between the space
A doily matched by none in its perfection

Leave the net till morning
And then check it with the sun
Though best to go at dawn when day is new
And there you'll spy some other nets
That something else has spun
Seems spiders like to capture dewdrops too.

Poetic Licence

2009-01-15T21:35:00.000-08:00

Birds of a Feather

There’s a paddling of ducklings in my lake
And a purr of pussycats half awake

There’s a trembling of finches on my lawn
And a purr of pussycats stretch and yawn

There’s a troubling of hummingbirds in my blossom
And a purr of pussycats playing possum

There’s a pitying of turtledoves cooing to their mate
And a purr of pussycats rubbing on the gate

There’s a quarrel of sparrows busy with their fight
And a purr of pussycats keeping out of sight

There’s a peep of chickens and a bevy of quails
And a purr of pussycats wiggling their tails

But then, in the sky, is a murder of crows
And a prickle of pussycats hide in the rose

First published in The School Magazine – Orbit – Feb 2008 [VOL.93 NO.1])

To Rhyme for Rhyming's Sake

2009-01-04T23:04:00.000-08:00

One of the challenges when writing in rhyme is NOT to rhyme for rhyming's sake. Nothing sounds worse than a word that has been squashed into place just because it rhymes. Below is a poem where every verse needed a rhyme to the word soft - do you think it works?

Powder Soft

Gran has a face that is powder soft
And her hands are cool as silk
Tight grey curls twist around her head
And her skin is white as milk

I stayed with Gran in her creaky house
And I slept on a bed in the loft
It’s a pokey room with a slanted roof
But my sheets were powder soft

A giant lives in the woods out back
All night he sneezed and coughed
From the cool night air and the fairy dust
But his tears were powder soft

I told my gran about the noise
“There’s no such thing,” she scoffed
She winked and gave me her handkerchief
And her laugh was powder soft

I left the hanky on the sill
Of the window in the loft
He blew a kiss that I caught on my cheek
And his breath was powder soft

Do you see what I see?

2008-11-18T14:55:00.000-08:00

They say that love is blind and that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.

When I look at the rock formation at Point Roadknight I see a dinosaur.

Do you see what I see?

A Dinosaur in our Ocean

There’s a dinosaur in our ocean
And it’s arching its crinkly back
And its tail, all long and spiky
Points to the wild bush track

It looks like its been frozen
Surprised by the incoming tide
Its head, with eyes like craters
A place for gulls to hide

Its curls around the beaches
And rocks the pools nearby
They cradle its tears - all salty
And reflect an autumn sky

There’s a dinosaur in our ocean
It there for all to see
But nobody takes much notice
Except that is, for me

Simple Pleasures

2008-11-06T17:09:00.001-08:00

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch
Sand and broken shells
Fish and chips for lunch
Salt and seaweed smells

Swish. Swish. Swish
Lapping on the sand
Chasing silver fish
Holding Daddy’s hand

This poem is called "Holding Hands" - a very simple pleasure...

Do you have a poem about a simple pleasure?

I'd love to read it...

Pet Poetry

2008-10-28T20:34:00.000-07:00

FLIPPITY FLOPPITY DOG

He’s a fidget
And a prancer
A clippity cloppity dog

He’s a jitterbug
And a dancer
A hippity hoppity dog

He’s a trickster
And a moocher
He’s a softy
And a smoocher

He’s a roly
And a poly
He’s a flippity floppity dog

Have you written a poem about your pet? Would you like to share it? Click on the comments and share you Pet Poetry - lets see how many we can get...

Juxtaposition

2008-10-12T18:00:00.000-07:00

Juxtaposition is one of my favourite words. Oxymoron is another.

The dictionary says - * Noun1.juxtaposition - the act of positioning close together (or side by side.)

With this definition in mind it occurred to me that rainbows are formed when the sun and the rain appear side by side which led to me writing the poem below.

Juxtaposition and Rainbows

Refraction, reflection
A change of direction

Juxtaposition
A colour audition

Ethereal, imperial
skies wear a crown

An upside-down smile
that’s disguised as a frown

Fleeting, flamboyant,
flagrant and fun

An art exhibition of rain,
bows and sun

Funny Bones

2008-10-05T19:58:00.000-07:00

We all like a laugh don't we? I know I do. The poem below, I wrote just for the giggle of it.

Bath Time

At the end of the day
when it’s time for a bath
It’s a bit of a joke
but I try not to laugh

Mum always nags
and insists that I rub
from my head to my toes
cause she thinks I’m a grub

And it isn’t her job
to scrub dirt from my skin
and she’s tired of cleaning
the mess I get in

And she says I must soak
in the bath, not the shower…

…then she scrubs
at the ring round the tub
for an hour!

Less is More

2008-08-24T16:00:00.000-07:00

I am an economic writer which is why I enjoy writing poetry. I also enjoy flash fiction and particularly enjoy jokes. For me, less is always more. Below are two poems - one by my favourite poet A.A. Milne, the other by me. I love the simplicity of these poems. Short and sweet...

If I were John

And John were me

Then he’d be six

And I’d be three

If John were me

And I were John

I wouldn’t have these trousers on

A.A. Milne

If I were Kate

And Kate were me

Then she’d say yes

And I’d agree

If Kate were me

And I were Kate

I’d go to bed at half-past eight

J. Hosking

Poetry shapes and sizes

2008-07-20T15:43:00.000-07:00

Two things that I love to do - walking through the bush and driving in the country. Below are two poems, both about flowers. The first was written after driving from the the Surf Coast,where I live, to Ballarat. The second was written after a long bush walk on the Surf Coast of Victoria. They both rhyme but as you can see they have very different shapes.

Photo by Neil Paskin www.neilpaskin.com

Canola Fields

Yellow-brick fields

step between

a landscape painted

bottle green

Mirrors of gold

reflect the sun

tempting insects

one by one

Fluorescent splash

a silent wave

like stepping stones

the way is paved

Petals of yolk

dance in Spring

So should bees be blind

would flowers sing?

Wildflowers

I think I saw

A flick

A fleck

A spick

A speck

Of pink

I think

Perhaps you mean

You might have seen

A carpet

Coloured

Emerald green

You mean

You could be right

I think there might

Be shades

Of green

But in between

A flick

A fleck

A spick

A speck

A rainbow

Might have been

Acrostic Poems

2008-07-07T17:51:00.000-07:00

Have I ever told you
All about my little boy
Really made you understand
Reaching out to hold your hand
Infinitely loving you
Sharing all I know that's true
Only now I think it's time you knew
Nothing quite compares to you

Joy cannot describe
Every moment you're alive
Mighty little girl of mine
Mixed are my emotions
Invincible as oceans
My adored one
And I'll love you throughout time

Cute as a button
Alive as the night
Love child from heaven
Eternal as light

To paint a poem

2008-06-26T23:59:00.000-07:00

Children's poet Lorraine Marwood recently shared some of her poetry techniques on her website (see the link to your left).

One of her ideas really grabbed my attention because it made me analyse how I write many of my poems. I've never really thought about how I write them before.

She says, "grab a word camera and observe" and this is exactly what I do.

In fact sometimes when I'm walking and a poetic line strikes - I'll record it on my phone, to be discovered later by my children with a 'what the?' and I have to explain that I was capturing a moment.

Lorraine suggests - look outside, which is often where I am when a poem comes calling, then she gives a simple eleven-line format with suggestions on how to develop and explore your chosen subject matter.

For me when I feel the urge to write about something it is usually because it has affected me on an emotional level. My subject is usually appealing to my eye or my soul. Beauty affects me profoundly as do feelings of love, warmth and belonging. I've written about the moon, my dog, my cat and the rain. And I've tried every time to share how these simple things have made me feel. I've taken my words and painted a poem.

The Moon

There’s a moon

On my walk

At the top of the hill

And it’s perfectly round

And it’s perfectly still

And it holds

Back the clouds

With its circle of light

And it’s perfectly round

And it’s perfectly bright

It’s as full

As a hug

And as cool

As a stare

And it’s perfectly round

Even when it’s not there

First published in The School Magazine – Countdown (April 2006)

Writer's Block

2008-06-14T23:38:00.000-07:00

Have you heard of the term writer's block?

Some get it all the time while some refuse to accept that such a thing exists at all.

For me I know that I certainly have days where I feel inadequate and unsure and sometimes I find it helpful to write about how I'm feeling (see below).

I wonder if A.A. Milne suffered from writer's block (he's pictured above with his son Christopher Robin and bear, Winnie the Pooh.

A Blue Day Poem

I’m having an unproductive day

I’m feeling rather blue

The sky is dull and dreary and

I don’t know what to do

My head feels like it’s full of wool

My hands are cold and numb

I wish that I was clever

But I’m feeling kind of dumb

I think I’ll go straight back to bed

And write myself a letter

Perhaps a poem – one that rhymes

Will make me feel much better

I give up - I’ve tried and tried

It’s just too hard I know it

Instead I think I’ll go to sleep

And dream that I’m a poet

If you would like to leave a comment or a poem of your own please do feel free to do so...

Now We Are Six - A.A.Milne

2008-06-11T16:37:00.000-07:00

Well hello!

Welcome to the Rhyme & Rhythm of Verse.

Welcome to a world that is enchanting, lyrical and fun.

This is the world for artists who cannot paint, for star gazers who are afraid of heights and for dreamers who are wide awake.

This is a Verse - a - tile world...literally.

Here's a question...

Who knows Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin?

Well that's something we have in common then. Did you know that Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin were invented way before you were born and even before I was born!

The book that you see up there 'Now We Are Six' was first published in 1927 - that's 81 years ago and it's still being sold in book shops today - now that's amazing.

Lots of my poems have been influenced by A.A. Milne.

The one below is a blend of 'The Engineer' and 'Waiting at the Window'

It was first published in June 2007 by

The School Magazine.

There's a race
On my face
So let's see
Who will be
The first drop
To drip
From my nose
To my lip
From my lip
To my chin
From my chin
To my toes
Who will win?
Goodness
Knows!

The illustration is by Vilma Cencic and I think she captures the image perfectly - even the child's face is shaped like a raindrop.