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Logarhyme, from AMETHYST's site |
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Sep 5 13, 16:32
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 11,505
Joined: 15-June 07
From: Springfield, Louisiana
Member No.: 446
Real Name: Larry D. Jennings
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Just wondered in.
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Apple for the Teacher
I would not jeer nor would condone disparaging remarks cast on a posted piece because this place is where we hone our craft. If funny, I may moan and beg surcease. It's not a forum where crits fly about the room for change, deny the merits of a Logarhyme. It's not child's-play to pen and in the genre stay or rise above the realm of mediocrity. I'd say you write them just like me as well you ought because you've taken up the task of teaching others. Time to bask! Insight is taught.
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Sep 7 13, 20:05
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 19,130
Joined: 2-August 03
From: Southwest New Jersey, USA
Member No.: 6
Real Name: Daniel J Ricketts, Sr.
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori
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My inseam's taut because my pants are stretched beyond the patch-implants I added on. I've lost a little weight of late but still I'm hauling too much freight. Perhaps anon I'll loose a little hear and there especially if I prepare some balanced meals while exercising twice a week-- or more if I am at my peak-- 't would be ideal.
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Sep 26 13, 21:59
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 11,505
Joined: 15-June 07
From: Springfield, Louisiana
Member No.: 446
Real Name: Larry D. Jennings
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Just wondered in.
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It would be most ideal but age has crept upon us, turned the page; now we’re too old. Although we strive to exercise our bellies flat or trim our thighs the truth be told we’ve not a chance. Our bodies changed and all our shape is rearranged by gravity. It’s though a force beyond our ken has locked a door, we can’t go in and you, like me, must face the fact that garnered weight will stay with us. It is our fate that diets fail and all the self-help books will cease to help us with that slight decrease of our big tale!
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Sep 28 13, 12:46
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Mosaic Master
Group: Administrator
Posts: 18,892
Joined: 1-August 03
From: Massachusetts
Member No.: 2
Real Name: Lori Kanter
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Imhotep
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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.
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"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." ~ J.R.R Tolkien, The Lord of the RingsCollaboration feeds innovation. In the spirit of workshopping, please revisit those threads you've critiqued to see if the author has incorporated your ideas, or requests further feedback from you. In addition, reciprocate with those who've responded to you in kind. "I believe it is the act of remembrance, long after our bones have turned to dust, to be the true essence of an afterlife." ~ Lorraine M. KanterNominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here! "Worry looks around, Sorry looks back, Faith looks up." ~ Early detection can save your life.MM Award Winner
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Sep 29 13, 23:41
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 11,505
Joined: 15-June 07
From: Springfield, Louisiana
Member No.: 446
Real Name: Larry D. Jennings
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Just wondered in.
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It’s not too late to enter seeds into the ground, delay impedes the planting of a new idea in the mind. Procrastination is unkind to those who love the written word… to sow a thought upon a mental garden. Naught will grow and feed the hungry soul which searches for the food of gods. Your cultivar may fill that need but you will never know if each new concept, never shared, would reach a fertile clime. Reveal that image from your heart, dispense a vision to impart a dream, sublime.
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Oct 3 13, 18:48
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Babylonian
Group: Gold Member
Posts: 62
Joined: 30-September 13
Member No.: 5,188
Real Name: Keith Logan
Writer of: Poetry
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This, if memory serves was the original logarhyme. It was a deliberate attempt to set a jaunty rhythm for a "Lady in Waiting" poem that would have a happy ending. I love a happy ending. (In common with Jane Austen, my favorite author.) I suspect it is borrowed from Rabbie Burns or Rudyard Kipling, both of which influenced my formative years. Keith, the happy chappy
Lady in Waiting
A thousand years ago and more upon a strange and distant shore a maiden wept. She watched and waited long in vain within her heart a mounting pain, she seldom slept.
O that my love might come to me she cried her silent, doleful plea, a stifled moan. The sun would rise, the sun would set, and still the lovers never met, she stood alone.
Then hove a sail in view one dawn as seabirds sang in tuneful song to welcome home, the one whose heart ached for the maid with fortune won, his plans were laid, no more to roam.
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Oct 6 13, 11:17
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Mosaic Master
Group: Administrator
Posts: 18,892
Joined: 1-August 03
From: Massachusetts
Member No.: 2
Real Name: Lori Kanter
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Imhotep
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Oh - how lovely!!! Were you the one who created this form Keith?
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"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." ~ J.R.R Tolkien, The Lord of the RingsCollaboration feeds innovation. In the spirit of workshopping, please revisit those threads you've critiqued to see if the author has incorporated your ideas, or requests further feedback from you. In addition, reciprocate with those who've responded to you in kind. "I believe it is the act of remembrance, long after our bones have turned to dust, to be the true essence of an afterlife." ~ Lorraine M. KanterNominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here! "Worry looks around, Sorry looks back, Faith looks up." ~ Early detection can save your life.MM Award Winner
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Oct 7 13, 15:14
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Babylonian
Group: Gold Member
Posts: 62
Joined: 30-September 13
Member No.: 5,188
Real Name: Keith Logan
Writer of: Poetry
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Around 10 years ago and more I did my rhyming on several poetry sites. (The very first one I discovered was called Salty Dreams.) I think this form took shape on a site called something like "Post Poems" or maybe "Poems Place". It may even have been Liz that named the form. I don't consider myself a poet, I don't take life seriously. I'm content to be a rhymer and a happy chappy. Also, as I said above, the poetic guidelines that it follows almost certainly existed before. There is nothing new under the sun.
Keith, the happy chappy
ps: as a simple rhymer the idea of copyright or need for permissions to use my scribblings is quite alien to me.
An Update... The lady lived contentedly within a castle by the sea for time unending. As daily she watched o'er the water, she and her devoted daughter household mending.
Her husband yet was lion hearted, but from her side had not departed, come what may. Though others went to war for glory, he knew too well the age old story; how women pray.
Soon enough would come in sight some educated noble knight his charge to wed. Till then the husband and proud father would the sweetest love in-gather, his soul well fed.
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Oct 11 13, 14:08
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 11,505
Joined: 15-June 07
From: Springfield, Louisiana
Member No.: 446
Real Name: Larry D. Jennings
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Just wondered in.
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Love’s Call
Though soul was fed when roaming ceased and progeny his line increased, he longed for more. His treasures gathered ‘cross the seas were dwindling now to coin and lees. He’d soon be poor.
The lady, who had waited long, could never hear that ocean’s song; a whispered phrase which swept into her sailor’s heart. Each wave a chord that did impart remembered days
of salty spray on wooden deck. The bounty saved from sinking wreck had bought this place but castle walls, built for his maid, concealed the ocean’s charms. Her jade and emerald face
intruded in his dreams each night. The maid, unknowing of her plight, would soon feel pain for vows and troth could stay, not hold a sailor from the Sirens cold and sweet refrain.
Keith, sorry about the ending but it was a happy one for the sailor!
Larry
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Oct 11 13, 17:05
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Babylonian
Group: Gold Member
Posts: 62
Joined: 30-September 13
Member No.: 5,188
Real Name: Keith Logan
Writer of: Poetry
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Hi Larry,
Great and thoughtful response. It's amazing how people read the same words in a different way. Your take on the adventurer being a sailor is appropriate but I had in mind a fairy tale knight, seeking fortune in a distant land. Something like the old poem below.
Keith, the happy chappy
The Sacrifice
The sword was from its scabbard drawn and thrust into the air. The knight was now a foolish pawn in taking up this dare.
He stood alone against a dragon to save a pretty maid, without suspecting aught was wrong, the trap was so well laid.
The village knew it would not wait, the monster had it's price. The maiden purely used as bait, the knight, the sacrifice.
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Oct 11 13, 22:04
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 11,505
Joined: 15-June 07
From: Springfield, Louisiana
Member No.: 446
Real Name: Larry D. Jennings
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Just wondered in.
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Hi Keith,
Thanks for the clarification. I liked your added poem also except for one thing... It's not a Logarhyme! I know, critiques are not to be made in these forums but reminders seem to be okay.
I'll try to come up with a response more suited to this particular forum.
Larry
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Oct 12 13, 16:17
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 19,130
Joined: 2-August 03
From: Southwest New Jersey, USA
Member No.: 6
Real Name: Daniel J Ricketts, Sr.
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori
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To write a poem here is fine; non- Logarhymes are out of line... but let's move on. Mistakes are made by all of us, but we've not been kicked off the bus 'cept times begone. We'll look for Keith's next wisdom piece since he's the one who has the lease upon the form. For now I heading off the site while I continue pain to fight here in the 'dorm'. Lightly, Daniel
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Oct 13 13, 10:20
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 19,130
Joined: 2-August 03
From: Southwest New Jersey, USA
Member No.: 6
Real Name: Daniel J Ricketts, Sr.
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori
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I'm looking to the Day when pain will nevermore be felt again. Until that time I'll plug along as best I may as bit by bit it fades away to change my clime.
I'll tend the scars; I'll exercise and stretch my ligaments 'mid cries of agony. But pseudo-burn upon my sole says pain's afoot, out of control... not just my knee.
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Oct 13 13, 20:22
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Babylonian
Group: Gold Member
Posts: 62
Joined: 30-September 13
Member No.: 5,188
Real Name: Keith Logan
Writer of: Poetry
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Jehovah's witnesses are they who teach that suffering, one day will be long past. That every worry, fear or pain will not with humankind remain, carefree at last
If you'll allow to share a thought about those things we've all been taught, I'll make it quick. Its not a logarhyme per se but something heard back in the day, a limerick. -------------------
There was a faith healer from Deil who said, although pain isn't real when I sit on a pin and I puncture my skin, I don't like what I fancy I feel.
I was probably around ten years old when I first heard this limerick. it appealed so much that I never forgot it.
Keith, the happy chappy
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Oct 14 13, 10:08
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 19,130
Joined: 2-August 03
From: Southwest New Jersey, USA
Member No.: 6
Real Name: Daniel J Ricketts, Sr.
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori
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Jehovah's Witness I am not, but I believe what I've been taught right from the Book. When Christ returns, the earth will change, and many things He'll rearrange; some will be shook.
I know the rules of Logarhyme; my Limericks can be sublime, so what you say is terribly unclear to me; perhaps you'd clear away debris and me allay?
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Oct 15 13, 14:01
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 11,505
Joined: 15-June 07
From: Springfield, Louisiana
Member No.: 446
Real Name: Larry D. Jennings
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Just wondered in.
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And off upon a tangent, new, of lighter mien which may imbue thread’s levity. No talk of pain or dread disease, religious bent, clogged arteries. Humanity is such a fragile state at best as both of you proclaim. A jest may bring a smile to momentarily decrease the thought of ills, grant some surcease to daily trial. I’d rather read ridiculous than live beneath a pendulous black cloud of fear of what the future may comprise. The aches of age neither surprise nor dampen cheer that I woke up with sunlight’s kiss upon my face. No greater bliss one can obtain than knowing we have no control for life is His to take or dole, it’s His domain!
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Oct 15 13, 17:36
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Babylonian
Group: Gold Member
Posts: 62
Joined: 30-September 13
Member No.: 5,188
Real Name: Keith Logan
Writer of: Poetry
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On a lighter note, here's an old one that will be topical again soon. the happy chappy
Firnham Wood The day dawned bright with autumn gold where slits of light cut through the wold, bright flowers stood. A blessing rang of bird and song as waters lapped the while along by Firnham Wood.
At length red flame turned indigo the moon appeared a distant glow where blackness fell. In shifting shades of eerie light that pressed the silence of the night, a lonely bell. There in the pitch of midnight dark reflecting on the hoary bark, a flickered flame. As to and fro it cast about grotesque girations that standout, in this timeframe. When shadows take on shades of life and sounds are tremblings of strife, so we believe. No other date within the year can fill the darkness with such fear, All Hallows Eve.
Now homeward bound, the churchbell rings, caught by a draft it once more swings in dawn's grey light. That cast off cigarette burned slow, the fire it lit, a furtive glow, to all, goodnight.
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Oct 17 13, 10:32
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Group: Gold Member
Posts: 19,130
Joined: 2-August 03
From: Southwest New Jersey, USA
Member No.: 6
Real Name: Daniel J Ricketts, Sr.
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori
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Dear Writer's Block
Dear writer's block, it's I, not you who's got my thinking in a stew. You're always there to put a noose around my neck when I am hearing "What the heck!" That is your fare.
But I've not heard it for a while, and though your gift is not from guile I can't accept. I write because it whirs inside although sometimes it's misapplied, and I'm inept.
So, good or bad I spew it out, 'cause I'm not gonna sit an' pout about your rope. It matters not if others read; their absence simply won't impede. It's how I cope.
© MLee Dickens'son 2013
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