Logarhyme, from AMETHYST's site Options

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi all.

Liz has permission to post this form here and I think it sounds like a FUN poetic style...

Here's the scoop as stated on Poetry911:

How could a simple six line verse with four iambs in first and second line, two iams in the third, then repeated again in the next three lines, not have been written before?

Anyway, the form is:
4 iambs with end rhyme A
4 iambs with end rhyme A
2 iambs with end rhyme B
4 iambs with end rhyme C
4 iambs with end rhyme C
2 iambs with end rhyme B
Where usually some kind of summary or counterpoint to the two preceding lines goes on the B line.

Liz summarizes this new form as:

The requirements are iambic meter...

Line Length is 884884 for each stanza
the rhyme scheme goes AABCCB ...

Its fun!

Hugs, Liz

Here is an example from Liz....


All In The Mind...


The moon is full; an airy light
encircles it this eerie night.
A blood red ring.
The strangest shadow passes by
it floats across a blackened sky.
What was that thing?

I shiver; still I walk along
and look about--the shadows gone.
Afraid to see.
There's an evil presence a foot
a distant owl begins to hoot.
It's calling me.

When up ahead a witch on broom
begins to fly toward the moon.
A cackling caw.
She screeched and scowled into the dark,
it echoed through the streets and park.
Her hand a claw.

Her wicked hand reached out to me.
she tried to grab hold of my tee.
I raced away.
I headed home, and slammed the door
She could've followed, I'm not sure.
Here's where I'll stay.

The midnight hour had struck the clock
at twelve...ding dong, had sung tick tock.
What did this mean?
I hid beneath the candy seat,
and heard a voice say trick or treat...
It's Halloween!  

Why not try it!

[Cleo_Serapis]

As time flies by, I’m caught—alas
between two tasks. I shall not pass
the buck. These eyes
can see beyond the catacombs,
inviting ev’ry one who roams
to come, Arise!
Pick up your pen, be one like Keats
and make your mark; the muse entreats.
Let’s start it here.
Imagination comes, soon feel
that beating march, spin on your heel
away from bier
that waits beyond, just to the right
where junkets wreaking of ‘blocks’ night
will dissipate.
And when your written words--they'll read
those critics long to intercede . . .
It’s not too late.