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).
.
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.
.
Power.
Tower.
Sour.
Scour.
Devour.
Hour.
Flour.
Empower.
Our.
.
And sometimes I move on to double or triple words:
.
People Power
Rain Shower
Rush Hour
Whole Wheat Flour
Whiskey Sour
.
I sometimes mutter a phrase: Take a shower, Build a Flower, Sweet trumps sour.
.
And sooner or later I have written or am singing a poem that may or may not be interesting.
.
So why am I saying all this?
.
Well, I’d like company.
.
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).
.
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:
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.
.
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.
.
Meanwhile, here’s your bribe of a prize:
This is fun!
ReplyDeleteHere 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.
julie-ann, wholey moley! the race is on!
ReplyDeletexoxo
As I rise to shower with the morning power and smell of fresh flowers
ReplyDeleteI 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)
at this ungodly hour
ReplyDeleteour 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
KJ,
ReplyDeleteOn 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.
woo hoo! sonja and chewy!
ReplyDeleteOkay, this is really awful, but hey, I had to try...
ReplyDeleteThere 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.
It is late in the hour,
ReplyDeleteAnd 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?)
hey Kj... come and see my attempt... the crow really really loves to win your sparkling book...
ReplyDeleteclick on this link and see how do you like it:
???????
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteTHE OWL_______
ReplyDeleteIn 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
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.
ReplyDeleteIf 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!
These are darn good!!!
ReplyDeleteThis 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
these are fun. here is mine:
ReplyDeleteAt 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.
shit i'm sour
ReplyDeletemissed the fucking hour
to write a poem; have lost my power
flour
flower
hour
our
with these homophones
i do thee shower.
There never was a better hour
ReplyDeleteto 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
annie, hahaha!
ReplyDeletevictoria! 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
can't forget human being. here is her poem:
ReplyDeletethese 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