Haiku- a Japanese poem
of seventeen syllables. In three lines of five, seven, five |
Waterfall
Author: Loana Bejan The heavenly song Of the little tears splashing The waterfall’s beauty. |
Butterfly
Author: Andrea Popa Floating through the air Fluttering from bloom to bloom Drifts flits, glides to me. |
Limerick- five line witty poem
with rhythm. The first, second and fifth lines, the longer lines, rhyme. The third and fourth shorter lines rhyme. |
A Fish Who Could Talk
Author: Elizabeth Trang There once was a fish who could talk. He wanted to learn how to walk. He got out from the sea, Fell right onto me, And I nearly died from great shock. |
The Man From Greece
Author: Skull There once was a man from Greece He was incredibly obese He rolled round the world crushing all boys and girls then fell into a vat of grease |
Sonnet- contains fourteen lines
using any number of rhyme schemes and normally having 10 syllables per line. |
Sonnet 18
Author: William Shakespeare Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st. So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. |
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Author: Mary Frye Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die. |
Ballad- poem or song narrating a story in short stanzas
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Landlord
Author: Langston Hughes Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don't you 'member I told you about it Way last week? Landlord, landlord, These steps is broken down. When you come up yourself It's a wonder you don't fall down. Ten Bucks you say I owe you? Ten Bucks you say is due? Well, that's Ten Bucks more'n I'l pay you Till you fix this house up new. What? You gonna get eviction orders? You gonna cut off my heat? You gonna take my furniture and Throw it in the street? Um-huh! You talking high and mighty. Talk on-till you get through. You ain't gonna be able to say a word If I land my fist on you. Police! Police! Come and get this man! He's trying to ruin the government And overturn the land! Copper's whistle! Patrol bell! Arrest. Precinct Station. Iron cell. Headlines in press: Man Threatens landlord Tenant Held Bail Judge GIives Negro 90 Days In County Jail! |
Maude Clare
Author: Christina Rossetti Out of the church she followed them With a lofty step and mien: His bride was like a village maid, Maude Clare was like a queen. “Son Thomas, ” his lady mother said, With smiles, almost with tears: “May Nell and you but live as true As we have done for years; “Your father thirty years ago Had just your tale to tell; But he was not so pale as you, Nor I so pale as Nell.” My lord was pale with inward strife, And Nell was pale with pride; My lord gazed long on pale Maude Clare Or ever he kissed the bride. “Lo, I have brought my gift, my lord, Have brought my gift, ” she said: To bless the hearth, to bless the board, To bless the marriage-bed. “Here’s my half of the golden chain You wore about your neck, That day we waded ankle-deep For lilies in the beck: “Here’s my half of the faded leaves We plucked from the budding bough, With feet amongst the lily leaves, - The lilies are budding now.” He strove to match her scorn with scorn, He faltered in his place: “Lady, ” he said, - “Maude Clare, ” he said, - “Maude Clare, ” – and hid his face. She turn’d to Nell: “My Lady Nell, I have a gift for you; Though, were it fruit, the blooms were gone, Or, were it flowers, the dew. “Take my share of a fickle heart, Mine of a paltry love: Take it or leave it as you will, I wash my hands thereof.” “And what you leave, ” said Nell, “I’ll take, And what you spurn, I’ll wear; For he’s my lord for better and worse, And him I love Maude Clare. “Yea, though you’re taller by the head, More wise and much more fair: I’ll love him till he loves me best, Me best of all Maude Clare. |