"A Reading from Homer" by Sir Lawrence Alma-TamedaRhyming Poems for Poem in Your Pocket Day The Society April 22, 2018 Beauty, Culture, For Educators, From the Society, Poetry 4 Comments April 26 is Poem in Your Pocket Day, part of National Poetry Month. On this day, people are encouraged to carry a poem in their pockets and share it with others. Below are recommended rhyming poems for this day from contemporary classical poets and famous classical poets of the past. Also, click here for an easy to download and print PDF file of the below poems.. Enjoy! Rhyming Poems by Contemporary Poets From My Pocket Written upon finding most contemporary poems recommended for this day do not contain rhyme or meter. By Evan Mantyk From my pocket came cardstock that ____Had the words below inscribed In letters golden thoughts emblazoned; ____Hear them now described: “Poems with rhyming and good timing ____Have a certain charm That makes the brain a speeding train ____That moves the writing arm. You may say that they’re passé ____And shallow in their scope, Yet discipline will often win ____Without the help of dope. Call it common or old fashion ____And yet what could be More profound than how words sound when ____Made in harmony, Like the brass bell’s ringing sound swells ____Sending waves afar With force not random, but from atoms ____Lined like music bars; Tin and copper smelted proper ____Makes the metal brass, For each its protons has strict patterns ____And a constant mass. Things with order and strong borders ____Leave a lasting mark, Reverberating, undulating ____Here to ages dark, From those ages and skin pages ____To antiquity And forward flying past our dying ____To posterity. Song that’s singing! Gong that’s ringing! ____Through the poem with rhyme! Forever living, ever giving ____Meaning through all time!” A Poem’s Purpose By Michael Maibach A poet writes His heart that day, It is for him A way to pray. The reader finds Those words as new – Their life unique, Their story true. What the poet felt It matters not, The reader’s task Is to loose the knot. To loose the knot That’s closed their heart, The poem may serve As their fresh start. As you read a poem Ask one thing – Who might you love? What bell to ring? For Food I Could Never Find Breathe forth your words now, breaking at long last The fasting that has kept me hungering For food that I could never find on earth. – Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, Paradiso xix.25-27 By James Sale For food I could never find How long I fasted I can’t say; Always a fullness on my mind Bid me hasten on my way. For food I could never find: How hunger drove me night and day; Always somehow made mad my mind. I’d want to stop but couldn’t stay. For food I could never find. How seeming good but tasting clay; Always voracious in my mind, I’d start to focus then would stray. For food I could never find: How meat at first turned quick to hay; Always projecting in my mind I’d start with yes but come to nay. For food I could never find: How long for heaven I would pray; Always the manna, thin as wind, Evaporated on my tray. For food I could never find And if I could, could never pay; Always that debt was on my mind, Always in eating more delay. For food I could never find. Would You Rather Come Back As… By James B. Nicola Would you rather come back as a dog, tied and trained, or aloof, as a cat? ____Some might have to come as a rock or a log. But I would come back as a hat. Though stuck on a shelf in a box in what might seem to be an abyss, ____I would not get annoyed by the ticking of clocks, but await the arrival of Miss or, on top of a Man-About-Town with a kick in my bowl, and my brim ____on a bias to strut for a day up and down, I would complement her, or him. At the end of the day, I’d be dosed with a powder—or herb, now and then—, ____brushed and tucked in a closet, but only, at most, until I am wanted again. All I need’s to be reincarnated as a chapeau, beret or fedore, ____and not know that the era of fashion has faded, that no one wears hats anymore. Cosmic Walk a sonnet By Sathya Narayana A lone pedestrian this trembling soul! Vied destiny…the distant pool of light beyond the shallow shoals, the mocking Knolls, the clouded sky and spiteful stars of night! A chosen sanguine tread, sans wheels and wings this journey long, on ghostly soles through maze of loose desires on strings of swaping springs and falls towards the goal; in cosmic chaise! A magic decision to make this walk, Unsure if there’s a goal; whether exists or not; parrying worldly jolts and knocks to break that phantom lock with beatified fists. ____Love has no limbs, light…eyes; and bliss no taste! ____In peace glides smooth ethereal flight, sans haste! Rhyming Poems from Past Poets A Passing Glimpse By Robert Frost I often see flowers from a passing car That are gone before I can tell what they are. I want to get out of the train and go back To see what they were beside the track. I name all the flowers I am sure they weren’t: Not fireweed loving where woods have burnt— Not bluebells gracing a tunnel mouth— Not lupine living on sand and drouth.* Was something brushed across my mind That no one on earth will ever find? Heaven gives its glimpses only to those Not in position to look too close. *Drouth: Drought Eternity By William Blake He who binds to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy He who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity’s sunrise The Arrow and the Song By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song? Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend. Bells (First Stanza) By Edgar Allan Poe HEAR the sledges with the bells— Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells— From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. The Camel’s Hump By Rudyard Kipling The Camel’s hump is an ugly lump Which well you may see at the Zoo; But uglier yet is the hump we get From having too little to do. Kiddies and grown-ups too-oo-oo, If we haven’t enough to do-oo-oo, We get the hump— Cameelious hump— The hump that is black and blue!* We climb out of bed with a frouzly head, And a snarly-yarly voice. We shiver and scowl and we grunt and we growl At our bath and our boots and our toys; And there ought to be a corner for me (And I know’ there is one for you) When we get the hump— Cameelious hump— The hump that is black and blue! The cure for this ill is not to sit still, Or frowst* with a book by the fire; But to take a large hoe and a shovel also, And dig till you gently perspire; And then you will find that the sun and the wind, And the Djinn* of the Garden too, Have lifted the hump— The horrible hump— The hump that is black and blue! I get it as well as you-oo-oo If I haven’t enough to do-oo-oo! We all get hump— Cameelious hump— Kiddies and grown-ups too! *Black and blue hump refers to a black or blue mood, similar to “feeling blue” or “black humor” used today *Frowst: to lounge about lazily somewhere warm *Djinn: Pronounced “jin” is a spirit, similar to the word genie today Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 4 Responses James A. Tweedie April 24, 2018 What a fun set of poems. Thank you, Evan, for marking the holiday (sic) with a poem of your own. Pocket poems are best when they are short. I carried one in my wallet for several years after graduating from high school–a couplet written by a friend: When in danger, when in doubt, Run in circles, scream and shout. Back in those days, whenever something went wrong and I felt as if my life had been derailed I would think of this poem . . . and smile. Come to think of it, maybe I should tuck it back in my wallet once again. Perhaps alongside something by Ogden Nash along the lines of, “The one “L” lama, he’s a priest . . .” etc. Reply Evan April 28, 2018 James, excellent feedback! Shorter poems next year. Reply Sathyanarayana April 24, 2018 Thank you Sirs. It is a great honour to be amongst the great poets. Reply David Hollywood April 24, 2018 A great selection to choose from. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.