[Bards] Poetic Exercise #4
marie.adams at visionoflove.net
Mon Sep 29 09:40:14 PDT 2003
Thanks, I'm glad you liked them. Serena
On Thu, 25 Sep 2003, Dawn Rummel wrote:
> Wowser - those are both great!
> Marie Adams <marie.adams at visionoflove.net> wrote:
> My blade finds my opponent's heart
> And sends him to the floor.
> He rises---I cannot believe
> He's coming back for more!
> This rhino won't yield, even when
> I drive him 'crost the yard.
> When we come off the field, I hope
> The marshall shreds his card!
> Here's a bonus one as well; it's not about anything in the SCA, but it's
> the first one I thought of, so I might as well include it.
> My little one awakes and cries
> For sixth or seventh time;
> At this point, I could cry myself,
> She's robbed my sleep sublime.
> By four a.m., I feel half dead.
> If she makes one more peep,
> I'm elbowing her father, then
> I'm going back to sleep!
> Any other moms out there identify with that? ;-)
> P.S. Ulf, thanks for starting this whole thing; before you did, I never
> thought I could write much poetry, but I guess I was wrong. And this is
> one of the very few times I don't mind being wrong!
> On Tue, 23 Sep 2003, Ulf Gunnarsson wrote:
> > To this point, there has been no requirement of end-rhyme. End-rhyme is
> > where the words at the end of two lines rhyme, such as in "Roses are
> > red" and many nursery rhymes. Rhyming as we know it today was not used
> > often in early times. It started to grow in popularity after the
> > millennium, and predominated poetry by the High Middle Ages.
> > Exercise #4 asks you to write two stanza in the form know as "ballad".
> > It is iambic, as before (duh DUH duh DUH ...). The first and third line
> > are iambic tetrameter (four feet) and the second and fourth line are
> > iambic trimeter (three feet). The second and fourth line should rhyme.
> > To keep it just a little bit difficult, let's use nothing but perfect
> > rhymes. As for topic, write about a humorous situation.
> > An example:
> > My love is all alone this night,
> > Her bed an empty sea,
> > Where once the storms of passion blew
> > And carried her to me.
> > She lies in sleep so well reposed,
> > A smile above her chin.
> > And if I beg forgiveness true
> > She might let me back in.
> > Ulf Gunnarsson
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