.
This challenge was conceived by Paul A. Freeman after reading a sonnet in iambic monometer by James A. Tweedie, “Allergies.” Mr. Freeman’s example is below.
Make your own and post it in the comments section below!
.
by Paul A. Freeman
My mind
these days
can’t find
always
good rhymes
to write.
Sometimes
I might
pen weak
rhyme words
that reek
like turds.
__Though versed,
__I’m cursed.
.
.
Fog of Confusion I claim these rolling hills _Of age-old granite, And the shadow of their bulk _Upon my...
As Alexander rose upon a hill, somewhere east of King Darius’s dust, at once a pure, serene and awful...
Good venture into philosophy, Roy--with a child very well known for later contemplations as your speaker. I hadn't heard this…
Bless you, Bhikkhu Nyansobhano! The story I read from which I wrote the poem made me contemplate as well.
You've got some good word-play here, Roy, with sense behind it. I like the idea of evil and darkness (and…
mother nature’s kiln bakes the years onto my skin patterns spun by light
To Leo and To Karen, Thank you both for adding your thoughts to my poem.
How ’bout the sonnet..
We seek
What’s true
“News” speak
No clue
Away!
They lied
With truth
Denied
Respect
Is gone
Inspect
Those pawns
Reveal
What’s real
I’ve been absent, over a year. Yikes! Thank you. You are right. I’ll do another.
A Positive Spin
Your face
Revealed
A grace
concealed
New lines
Crow’s feet
Age signs
Complete
But smile
And glow
You’ve miles
To go
Be glad
Not sad
Trenched
Through dark
A glass,
I hark
And pass,
To days
Before
These ways
Of war.
Shimmer
That pool.
Dimmer
And cruel.
It dies.
As I…
Well penned, old friend! 🙂
Tonight
I found
this site
around
My search,
Unwise!
Research
Bruce Wise.
My dad’s
sibling,
his adds
quibbling
and verse
perverse!
A Novice Poet’s Retort
Paul’s poem
query
makes me
weary.
While words
escape
to big
to make.
Each quick
attempt
I do
resent.
Cast out
Freeman
You are
Demon.
Great communication, Professor.
Much appreciated, but give my students credit as well. I needed a diversion from their essay exams.
Bwah, ha, ha!
I write
a rhyme
with slight/
no time.
I have
no gift
for half
or fifth
of a
meter
that’s a
beater
in this
challenge.
This world
I see
unfurled
for me
becomes
my pen
that drums
of when
I think
or swim
or drink
of whim.
By Light,
I write.
I like it.
Thank you!
I like it.
Inspired by ici and avec as you can see, after all if I can’t write something noteworthy in iambic monometer why not write one in French, but tres jolie
Ici
avec
moi
bonjour
bonne
chance
fromage
de pain
du vin
bonheur
mon chou
bonsoir
c’est tout
desole
Portrait of a Face
A face
Divine
Is traced
In lines.
The strokes
Intersects,
Evokes,
Reflects
The face
Clearer
Than any
Mirror.
What we see
Is artistry.
I had such a pleasurable time writing these iambic monometers!
By limiting the meter to just one feet, the challenge became a ingenious exercise to squeeze the creative ability of the poet. Having read the other different poems written by numerous talented poets, it makes my own seem like the work of an amateur.
Dilettante
How tough
To write
A task
So rough.
My peers
Submit
Their skits
With cheer.
The words
I drew
Are too
Absurd
And flat.
That’s that!
In the end though, I am glad to have participated in this challenge and learn a new poetic form in the process.
Medieval Episode
A cloud
afloat
may shroud
the moat.
The knight
that sleeps
finds light
he keeps
in dreams
of her
that seems
a blur.
His rhyme-
Love’s time.
This is so good as it makes brilliant use of the few syllables allowed and paints a good image at same time.
Reflective Sherlock Tomes
I write
A verse
Which tight
And terse
A truth
Bespeaks;
A sleuth
Who seeks
With fine
Suspense
In line
With sense
To ace
The case.
Home Soil
A man
His plan,
His fate
To make.
But no–
They know
He’s good;
They’re crude.
Nige-
Ria’s home
Where right
With might
Goes loam,
You see.
I wrote
arrow
so fast
go past
Cover-
is dew
morn hung
hundredth
arrow
is cast
Blasted
night bed.
becloud
lover
he drew.
challenge was conceived by Paul A. Freeman
Owls glide
Astride
Vast fields
So wide
For mice
Quite nice
to feed
their vice
bird drugs
mice, slugs
Alas, Alack, Aloof
‘Twas at
year’s end
I sat
to pen
iambs
sublime,
enjambed
and rhymed!
I tried
a verse,
but cried
and cursed
(methinks
it stinks).
I love this Dusty – it’s not easy writing with humour as well as sticking firmly to a stringent form like this. Makes me want to have a go – watch this space
My poem
is choked
with smoke
and soot,
and so
I croak
it, foot
by foot.
Paul this is genius. May I read it on my upcoming poetry podcast?
Hamlet hams
to be
or not
my plea
my lot
yes I
exist
to pry
insist
to ask
the hard
so tasked
by bard
my part
my part
Upon
The road
Anon
The toad
The car
So fast
The crow’s
Repast
Think big
Drink wine
On pig
We dine
The knife
Gives life