Monday, April 20, 2009

Rhyme Time

Official Notice: Thank you to everyone who participated in this not-so-sublime Rhyme Time. I will post the "winners" of yours truly's book by the end of the week. The poems are hilarious and wonderful. It was a blast. In the meantime, I'll be temporarily surrendering the blog microphone to Ms. Emily Rabbit for her rants and raves on Animal Wednesday.
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I like to rhyme. Sometimes I make up songs and rhyme the lyrics as I go along and shout them out in or out of the shower.
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For some reason this morning I thought about the words “shower” and “flower” and thought that would be a good start for a poem. When I do this I often go through the alphabet and see what words also rhyme.
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Power.
Tower.
Sour.
Scour.
Devour.
Hour.
Flour.
Empower.
Our.
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And sometimes I move on to double or triple words:
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People Power
Rain Shower
Rush Hour
Whole Wheat Flour
Whiskey Sour
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I sometimes mutter a phrase: Take a shower, Build a Flower, Sweet trumps sour.
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And sooner or later I have written or am singing a poem that may or may not be interesting.
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So why am I saying all this?
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Well, I’d like company.
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How about joining me? Use any of the words listed above, or any others that rhyme with shower, flower, (uh, even “now or”…) and I will award a copy of my newly published book, The Light Stays On, to the first two people who write a poem with at least six lines that rhyme, preferably eight (or more if you're on a roll).
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Plus I will award an additional book for one poem that I deem the best of the bunch.
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Come on, why not write a poem today? Maybe afterwards you can sing it outloud. And maybe it will make you laugh or get something off your chest.
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Here’s a hint: forget your age. You’re better off doing this as a fifth grader. Play around. It works a whole lot better that way.
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Meanwhile, here’s your bribe of a prize:

19 comments:

  1. This is fun!
    Here is mine:

    While in my power shower a monster soap did I devour.
    Looking like a lemon it tasted very soar.
    It was very hard to swallow and took best part of an hour.
    Burping and belching bubbles that smelt like a flower.
    Shooting across with tornado power.
    I became the monster soap to devour.

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  2. julie-ann, wholey moley! the race is on!

    xoxo

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  3. As I rise to shower with the morning power and smell of fresh flowers

    I wonder how can I devour all the raw, sour emotions while I scour

    Its only me with the Power to be that strong Tower of me.

    Oh my attempt as you see has no shower flower power to be a great poet and writer as thee.

    I WILL stick with my artsy fartsy attempt and be a crafter with singing from rafters.

    Smiles,
    Sonia ;)

    (trying is better than not at all)

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  4. at this ungodly hour
    our old house has lost power
    my demeanor is sour
    dirty feet need to scour
    scold myself as I cower
    I should never allow her
    to spend all my dower
    before I finished my shower

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  5. KJ,
    On Monday night I usually write a Haiku... but instead, I posted my "shower" poem and with a mention of you and a link to your blog.

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  6. woo hoo! sonja and chewy!

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  7. Okay, this is really awful, but hey, I had to try...
    There once was a woman who lived in a high tower.
    She was a long way, away from her
    lovely flowers,
    that lived far, down below and were getting a good Spring shower.
    The distance she had to make, took all her power,
    and made her mood very sour.

    ReplyDelete
  8. It is late in the hour,

    And my mood has turned sour.

    My walk in spring showers

    amongst budding flowers,

    at my side two bow wower's

    in earlier hours,

    Has not managed to cease my thoughts turning dour.


    (Cheery was not a prerequisite, right?)

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  9. hey Kj... come and see my attempt... the crow really really loves to win your sparkling book...

    click on this link and see how do you like it:

    ???????

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  10. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  11. THE OWL_______

    In this,
    the dark
    beyond
    the midnight hour
    I find myself
    away again,
    isolated in my tallest tower,
    the source of my pride
    this castle mine,
    hunger unbending
    for nocturnal power,
    over all I survey
    watching,
    looking,
    my descending shadow
    the landscape scours
    searching for prey
    that cowers
    hoping to escape
    my need to devour.


    Sadly this was the best I could do...came over here from the Crows place

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  12. I love good rhyme and it is so hard for me to continue past one or two lines, that I really appreciate those who can do it well.

    If I could have anything on my plate
    It wouldn't be something I'm likely to hate.

    Id be happy with something as green as an apple.
    Or anything related to soda or snapple.

    I am happier still if it isn't too squishy,
    Or ends up too spicy or even too fishy.

    Celery's fine and so is potato
    And there's carrots or even tomato.

    I said I like beans and even mom's chili,
    But giving me this is just short of silly.

    Why not meat or a portion of trout?
    Just give me a meal that isn't a sprout!

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  13. These are darn good!!!

    This has always been one of my favorite short poems...ready?

    ROSES ARE RED
    VIOLETS ARE BLUE
    SOME POEMS RHYME
    BUT THIS ONE DOESN'T

    :D
    xo

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  14. these are fun. here is mine:

    At this hour I'm feeling dour
    and want to cower in bed.
    But as I watch the rain scour
    the dry earth, bringing winter's sleeping life into flower,
    watch the bower of trees swell into leaf,
    my hear too swells
    and my eyes lift along the tower of trees
    and I feel blessed with the infinite power of nature to heal and renew.

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  15. shit i'm sour
    missed the fucking hour
    to write a poem; have lost my power
    flour
    flower
    hour
    our
    with these homophones
    i do thee shower.

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  16. There never was a better hour
    to be a beautiful purple flower.
    Face wide open, turned to the sky,
    green leaves stretching upward, high...
    There never was a better hour-
    accepting this blessed, cool rain shower.

    Peace,

    ~j

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  17. annie, hahaha!

    victoria! bow-bowers? very clever, girl! and to think i know both of them! ps it's a special treat to see you on my blog. pleassse come back again. pleeaassseee.

    walking man, wow...

    ginger, not fair! who can resist a poem about food?! :)

    lolo, my friend the wise guy... xo

    suki, inspirational!

    soulbrush, you are a f--- riot! thanks for making me laugh so well and so often.

    j-, a treat to read this here. thank you.

    THAT'S IT EVERYBODY. Julie-ann and Sonja, send me your mailing addresses on my email and i'll send you my book. The remaining recipient and winner of the best of the bunch will be announced on friday. THANKS FOR RHYMING, GREAT CHIMING, GOOD TIMING, I'M NOT LYING, NOW I'M SIGHING... (OH JEEZ)

    love from kj

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  18. can't forget human being. here is her poem:

    these hooks piercing through my flesh are no sign of power
    nor can they keep me imprisoned in your tower
    i tear loose my flesh as i'm both the soil and the plower
    and leave the town on the due hour
    i will go on bleeding and bruning sour
    but each drop of blood will turn into a flower
    this is love and it bestows to empower
    love never drizzles; it's a rain shower
    love never compares for it has no eyes to glower
    comparison is a fire that divides to devour
    love is the fire that bakes the raw flour
    love never holds but shelters; it's the soul's bower
    love is the last word and nothing can compel it to cower
    love's word is its bond as it is the truest vower
    love heals and cleanse as it always tends to scour
    thus it beautifies our countenance with scars overpriced more than any dower...

    aaahh, hb, just beautiful.... xo

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