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Quotes about rima, page 2

Sunbursts

Terza Rima Sonnet
‘Bursting Emotions’
Nancy E Alcorn
~
As sunrise bursts, ands spreads across the sky
Lavishing warmth, her shades of color blend
To my surroundings a peaceful sense supply

A new beginning, we must gently tend
Outstretched hand subconscious it is seeking
My censored thoughts, to you will freely lend

Thoughts, clandestine, creep in, slowly sneaking
I, now await, your arcane reaction
While through ten fingers, blue eyes are peaking

How can one explain this mute attraction?
As you approach me, heat intensifies
If we should touch we’ll find satisfaction

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Juvenalia I

They are the poems you found leatherbound
in a cedar drawer, decades later
dedicated to their 'only begetter'
the girl (where is she now?) you took to the senior prom
in your fathers' fancy, foreign luxury car.

Inhabited by Circes, Aphrodites, Maeves,
influences you never knew you had
none, mind you, awfully bad
employing every Italian form known
to occidental man, perfectly rhymed and sad.

some quite good and none, I stress, especially bad:
sonnets, odes, epodes, a tearful sestina
one parsed-out in queasy terza-rima
(English being a rhyme-poor tongue)
one boldly comparing love to influenza. (!) (?)

Nor are there French influences wanting-
viralays, rondalays, rondeaux:

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Breaking News...Poet's leaving for Mars. (alliterative acrostic)

Written just for fun and as an introduction to poetsofmars.com

Breaking News...Poet's leaving for Mars. (acrostic)

Poets ponder perplexing problems of pen and paper while
Obviously overlooking other opportunities which
Easily explain exactly how existential explorers have come
To tred trippingly along Terza Rima, Terzanell, and Triolet verse.
Seemingly, these spaced-out word smiths are solidly sold on moving to Mars.
Obviously, the outcome offers other advantages by way of
Freedom from the fastidious focus of feral Ya'fools.
Motivating merging members of the Mars movement has other merit.
Alternately, artists are allowed to act according to their natures by
Respectively reviewing raucous writing and raising the roof without reprisal.
So, I say to all skillful scribes: straddle your stylograph and set sail for the stars.

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Dress Me Like Poetry

Dress me like poetry in silk stanza stockings,
in pearls of metered verse on a syllabic strand.
Brush rhythm through my hair and rhyme on my lashes,
and paint me in tones of syntax and sonnet sand.

Dangle diction diamonds to adorn my face,
like cascading charms of sweet metaphoric prose.
Give me blue ballad bonnet alliteration
and assonant slippers with repetitious bows.

With sestina skirt and connotation corset,
I am the allusion and the symbol of love.
I am the onomatopoeia twilight song,
the euphonious moonlight that shimmers above.

So dress me like poetry, in pleasant pantoum
or in the cacophony of a villanelle,
in the ode of hyperbole or anapest,
in romantic Terza Rima or Terzanelle.

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My search

What is it that i am lookin for here and there
I have everything for what my heart cares 
Then why am i feeling so restless inside
That deep sinking feeling haunts me besides
Am i feeling that life is passing me by 
I have so much to do learn and try
I was told i am here for a purpose well set
I am searching so hard i 've fumed and fret
What is that passion everyone talks about
Heavens help me  aloud if you care i shout
Is it something that in this birth i wont discover
A mystery a dilemma unheard uncovered
In a haze i see myself walking with  pride
Waving at hordes who look at me as a guide
Then i wake up my Dream all shattered
My Soul my heart in pieces all scatterd
For i am living each day as it comes
With no purpose no passion to talk of under the sun
Master of the universe  i beg and plead 
Show me the road to my passion that leads 

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My Mentor

My mentor
It's a new beginning I can feel the thrill 
The purpose to rise higher with a steel will
Each day i look forward to with sleepless night
A knot in my stomach which slowly grows tight
Something is amiss lost in this frenzy around 
My heart yearns for more as indifferently it drowns
It drowns away looking for appreciation 
That encouragement which led to many unique creations
I miss it every moment of the rising day 
Pray it may return  like shining sun rays
For that was the reason I ushered my self so far
Worked day and night and fought all those war
Where are you my mentor my inspiration my soul
Have you left me behind for now greater are your goals
My heart cries inconsolably for I have no one to talk
I feel lost and cheated have worshipped you in every walk
Please don't give up on me I have something to share 
My mentor I respect you and it's for you I care
I owe you all that what I have achieved till day 

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Spectacular Failure

Ran into the office this morning to confess
the French mess to Hanlie, my Stoic Spartan
colleague, as I started to tell her of the chaos
in class – my passionate explanation why
Dominique Strauss-Kahn thought Tristane
Banon came to him with a mysterious plan

Given the title of her book “Male Mistakes”*
immediately suggesting he should illustrate
what it meant, given his fling with Tristane’s
mother, Anne Mansouret, he did not know
Tristane was never told, he thought Tristane
wanted to see his Cro-Magnon approach -

Marine confused; sweet Rima scared; Marius
angered by Strauss-Kahn’s lack of respect for
women and ethics, disorder obscuring the
brilliant explanation of incomprehensible
events, Hanlie laughed with me about my
spectacular failure to communicate….

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The Beauty Inside

I could not stay down in the deepest part of despair
as always my fictional characters came with a play
an allegory, a parable of wisdom triumphant over
blackness and death, as I grit my teeth and sank
lower under the yoke

The drama they enacted started to lift my feet until I
was out of my body - determined to wear the crown
of thorns I went to French class to listen to politics -
presented by Christophe Emery – and determinedly
the story kept going

Then we talked about cloning and clichés, there was
room for me to breathe, better emotion than horror at
politicians’ complete lack of ethics filled my heart, we
listened to Rima explain about Maghreb, I showed
her the article about Algeria

Where classic Arabic is the state language although
nobody can understand it; the sun came out and the

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Life is Lovely

I’m doing my best to realise your ideal – I mean
being true to being unhappy, but I am surrounded
by dysfunctional people - who enjoy being happy
Rima is laughter personified, Christine thinks life
is lovely, just for her to be amused and surprised

Hanlie insists on making the world beautiful with her
wonderful being, June is delighted with her house in
Gordon’s Bay, Martin is satisfied with the ideals he
sees being realised by two amazing kids following
his advice, my daughter shines in movie treats

My son dreaming big; at the office everyone breaks
out in smiles, I am really trying to get in touch with
my inner pain but it eludes me at present, though
I shall not give up in trying to reach the depths
of despair you prescribe, in deference to your

Amazing ability to find unhappiness behind every
happy façade, I am so glad you kindly informed

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Save Me Instead

Rima never watches scary movies while I never read
sad books; trusting Jean Ure to be a good author for
children, I read her book, expecting the abused kids
to escape nasty parents – it did not happen; leaving
me with a gaping hole in my heart

The whole world bathed in a sad grey light, yet it was
necessary to feel this sadness tonight, felt melancholic
and useless all day: my eighteen year old kid getting
angry at me and nearly crashing, not stopping at stop
streets and barging in front of people

Not listening to me, stalling the car on a steep incline,
stalling on the road because changing gears down is
too much effort for the lofty ‘Madame’, I am a failure
as driving instructor, a failure at work, no documents
received for processing, no idiots writing

To the President, they might have made me angry, but
it would have meant being useful- I’m only an oxygen

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