Week of First Drafts - Monday - Supersonic
- bodkin
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Today's prompt:
Write a poem that makes heavy use of slant or half-rhymes such as rhyming "spine" with "thyme", or even "candied" with "maundered"...
For extra credit, use other sonic effects such as:
- alliteration,
- associating words with similar sounds with one idea or character: "misty and moist, the silent surroundings..."
- or changing the prevailing vowel or consonant sound at a point in the poem where the subject is also changed
Ian
Write a poem that makes heavy use of slant or half-rhymes such as rhyming "spine" with "thyme", or even "candied" with "maundered"...
For extra credit, use other sonic effects such as:
- alliteration,
- associating words with similar sounds with one idea or character: "misty and moist, the silent surroundings..."
- or changing the prevailing vowel or consonant sound at a point in the poem where the subject is also changed
Ian
http://www.ianbadcoe.uk/
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With all respect Ian, couldn't the prompt have been "Write a poem"?
B.
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B.
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Roma
Fated to a future felching crabs
clean from the puckered holes of pampered twits,
Mary dreamed herself a nine-tailed cat
with which to lash those gobby little shits.
And gob they did, and spew their speckled bile
in whores, doctrines and hoary gospels.
Drinkin', wankin', lyin' the whole time
and preachin' to the peony with the dregs.
Rot in hell their elephantine cunts and arses
and God: a man-made anus built for fartin'.
~
Fated to a future felching crabs
clean from the puckered holes of pampered twits,
Mary dreamed herself a nine-tailed cat
with which to lash those gobby little shits.
And gob they did, and spew their speckled bile
in whores, doctrines and hoary gospels.
Drinkin', wankin', lyin' the whole time
and preachin' to the peony with the dregs.
Rot in hell their elephantine cunts and arses
and God: a man-made anus built for fartin'.
~
Ode to a factory.
Take your job and stick it
15 miles or more
get your flippin drinks machine
and chuck it through the door
your toilets are the pits
i can tell you that for sure
it's enough to give us all the .....
the pox the plague and more
the gaffers bloomin always around
and thinks he owns the place
you have to work for every pound
and keep up a certain pace
i've had enough of cleaning up
and powdering feet thats sore
one more tea in a plastic cup
and i'm out the, flamin door.
Take your job and stick it
15 miles or more
get your flippin drinks machine
and chuck it through the door
your toilets are the pits
i can tell you that for sure
it's enough to give us all the .....
the pox the plague and more
the gaffers bloomin always around
and thinks he owns the place
you have to work for every pound
and keep up a certain pace
i've had enough of cleaning up
and powdering feet thats sore
one more tea in a plastic cup
and i'm out the, flamin door.
Last edited by anniecat on Mon Jan 11, 2010 2:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.
It always happens when you least expect it. AC
.
An Exercise in Half Rhyme
This list of words makes heavy use of slant and half rhyme.
Half the time it’s rhythmic, but sometimes: Not.
It has some pure potential, (essential points included)
But I seem to be deluded by its purpose (at this specific time).
It’s fine as an example, for holding up to say:
I think this is the way it’s done, I hope I’ve got it right!
I might try another, maybe later, maybe tomorrow.
I may borrow extensively from expensive books on poetry.
.
An Exercise in Half Rhyme
This list of words makes heavy use of slant and half rhyme.
Half the time it’s rhythmic, but sometimes: Not.
It has some pure potential, (essential points included)
But I seem to be deluded by its purpose (at this specific time).
It’s fine as an example, for holding up to say:
I think this is the way it’s done, I hope I’ve got it right!
I might try another, maybe later, maybe tomorrow.
I may borrow extensively from expensive books on poetry.
.
All aspects of language are tools of the poet; line-broken narrative serves an intent.
Take cliché, miss pelling and hyphen'd syllabics. Mould them with form and artistic intent. :-)
Take cliché, miss pelling and hyphen'd syllabics. Mould them with form and artistic intent. :-)
.
Brian
Boody Hell ! That certainly paints a scene. I have an almost overwhelming urge to pluck my eyeballs out and wash ‘em.
Anniecat
Hi, I like this playful little ditty. The end rhymes where a bit distracting though, maybe play around with the line breaks in the next draft ?
.
Brian
Boody Hell ! That certainly paints a scene. I have an almost overwhelming urge to pluck my eyeballs out and wash ‘em.
Anniecat
Hi, I like this playful little ditty. The end rhymes where a bit distracting though, maybe play around with the line breaks in the next draft ?
.
All aspects of language are tools of the poet; line-broken narrative serves an intent.
Take cliché, miss pelling and hyphen'd syllabics. Mould them with form and artistic intent. :-)
Take cliché, miss pelling and hyphen'd syllabics. Mould them with form and artistic intent. :-)
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I'm not really seeing a lot of slant rhymes here... perhaps this is harder than it looks? Not that I've tried yet, so I'd better shut up!
Ros
Ros
Rosencrantz: What are you playing at? Guildenstern: Words. Words. They're all we have to go on.
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- bodkin
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Erm... how would that be different from not giving any prompt at all?brianedwards wrote:With all respect Ian, couldn't the prompt have been "Write a poem"?
B.
~
Are you saying you include all these things in all your poems? That's good for you but not everybody has the same emphasis.
And surely even you could turn the dial up to 11 and see what happens?
Ian
http://www.ianbadcoe.uk/
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The Jaded Executive
How I dislike a Conference
To intone my vapid view,
I like to sit astride the fence
And listen to the dull debut
Of up and coming upstarts
Who; without the slightest clue
Spout pouting clichés from the heart,
Then join the unemployment queue.
How I dislike a Conference
To intone my vapid view,
I like to sit astride the fence
And listen to the dull debut
Of up and coming upstarts
Who; without the slightest clue
Spout pouting clichés from the heart,
Then join the unemployment queue.
[center]A poem will always find someone for whom it works and to whom it means something [/center]
Similar reaction here - not enough direction for me. I don't really see how you can write a poem without thinking about sonics, and writing a poem purely to exercise sonics seems a bit like making a pizza with nothing but anchovies.brianedwards wrote:With all respect Ian, couldn't the prompt have been "Write a poem"?
B.
~
Still, I'll give it a whirl.
fine words butter no parsnips
- bodkin
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OK, more direction next time... check!k-j wrote:Similar reaction here - not enough direction for me. I don't really see how you can write a poem without thinking about sonics, and writing a poem purely to exercise sonics seems a bit like making a pizza with nothing but anchovies.brianedwards wrote:With all respect Ian, couldn't the prompt have been "Write a poem"?
B.
~
Still, I'll give it a whirl.
But I'd have thought focussing on an area of technique rather than subject matter would work. I've done enough exercises like this in the past. Maybe they don't lend themselves to posting first-drafts so well, however...
I'll look through the other stuff I have planned.
Ian
http://www.ianbadcoe.uk/
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Sounds like enough direction to me: use slant rhyme. Not that most people are, though. Why is that?
Rosencrantz: What are you playing at? Guildenstern: Words. Words. They're all we have to go on.
___________________________
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___________________________
Antiphon - www.antiphon.org.uk
Night. Cranes.
All night long the cranes, strung with lights,
steaming in the rain,
continue to swing;
and the rain continues to ring-a-ding down
on the pirouetting cranes,
as in a clarion code of arcs and angles,
smearing geometry and time,
they inscribe their dream:
calm,
storm,
and the chime of the atom
clamour and clang in their dream.
All night long the cranes, strung with lights,
steaming in the rain,
continue to swing;
and the rain continues to ring-a-ding down
on the pirouetting cranes,
as in a clarion code of arcs and angles,
smearing geometry and time,
they inscribe their dream:
calm,
storm,
and the chime of the atom
clamour and clang in their dream.
fine words butter no parsnips
- stuartryder
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Supersonic? Not any old sonnet.
(Sort of song found all over this planet.)
Something new, square-capped knee,
Sall-and-bocket joint, that's my
Intention, twist the ligament,
Change the lyric into a twig and then
Fuck it, chuck it in a stream,
Wait for the river's intervention,
Current hurtling through a dream.
A batch of bream unsettled,
A coot thrashes through nettles.
It takes off, the lake sloughs
Its calm for good, as a Nimrod
(One time a Comet) goes Supersonic.
(Sort of song found all over this planet.)
Something new, square-capped knee,
Sall-and-bocket joint, that's my
Intention, twist the ligament,
Change the lyric into a twig and then
Fuck it, chuck it in a stream,
Wait for the river's intervention,
Current hurtling through a dream.
A batch of bream unsettled,
A coot thrashes through nettles.
It takes off, the lake sloughs
Its calm for good, as a Nimrod
(One time a Comet) goes Supersonic.
- bodkin
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Communication's breakdown
An embarrassment of conspirators
disclosed by speaking out of turn
to dilatory louses in houses whose repute
is at best unwell; the action of leaching facts
into the water table, like suds wrung
from half-washed socks by faux-cockney washerwomen
in half-forgotten soap operas; the game of two halves,
where you neglected to turn up
for the second part --
are as nothing
to the feeling
when you call one woman
by another
inamorata's
name.
An embarrassment of conspirators
disclosed by speaking out of turn
to dilatory louses in houses whose repute
is at best unwell; the action of leaching facts
into the water table, like suds wrung
from half-washed socks by faux-cockney washerwomen
in half-forgotten soap operas; the game of two halves,
where you neglected to turn up
for the second part --
are as nothing
to the feeling
when you call one woman
by another
inamorata's
name.
http://www.ianbadcoe.uk/
- bodkin
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Brian -- now I need to wash my mind out...
Annie -- Your first one, I think that's mostly full rhymes?
The second one is much more the idea: "lips", "tightly", "kiss" are slant-rhymes and "puckerd", "passionate", "pension" is alliteration across all the principle ideas, nicely done!
Raine -- "another", "tomorrow", "poetry" form a nice sequence of part-rhymes but again I think most of the rest is perfect rhyming...
zootsuitmod -- interesting mixture of (mostly) full rhymes on the line ends) but some nicely slanted internal rhymes: "dislike", "astride"; "intone", "listen"; and "spout pouting" is a nice assonance.
Back later...
Ian
Annie -- Your first one, I think that's mostly full rhymes?
The second one is much more the idea: "lips", "tightly", "kiss" are slant-rhymes and "puckerd", "passionate", "pension" is alliteration across all the principle ideas, nicely done!
Raine -- "another", "tomorrow", "poetry" form a nice sequence of part-rhymes but again I think most of the rest is perfect rhyming...
zootsuitmod -- interesting mixture of (mostly) full rhymes on the line ends) but some nicely slanted internal rhymes: "dislike", "astride"; "intone", "listen"; and "spout pouting" is a nice assonance.
Back later...
Ian
http://www.ianbadcoe.uk/
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Oh yes just the way I planned it to be.......... I think!zootsuitmod -- interesting mixture of (mostly) full rhymes on the line ends) but some nicely slanted internal rhymes: "dislike", "astride"; "intone", "listen"; and "spout pouting" is a nice assonance.
No, sorry Bodkin this proved too much for me any internal slanted rhtmes were pure luck. Perhaps I might win the Lottery this week?
Which end rhymes were slanted? Was conference and fence slanted?
[center]A poem will always find someone for whom it works and to whom it means something [/center]
- bodkin
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k-j -- I wasn't so keen on ring-a-ding but I think the sounds in your ending come together really strongly...
Stuart -- a good mix of full and part-rhymes: "sonic", "sonnet", "planet", "bocket", "comet" is a particularly extended sequence... even "unsettled", "nettles" could be read as another variant of the same sound, just with the "et" pulled back into the middle of the word.
Good going all,
Ian
Stuart -- a good mix of full and part-rhymes: "sonic", "sonnet", "planet", "bocket", "comet" is a particularly extended sequence... even "unsettled", "nettles" could be read as another variant of the same sound, just with the "et" pulled back into the middle of the word.
Good going all,
Ian
http://www.ianbadcoe.uk/
- bodkin
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No, that's a perfect rhyme "-ence" in both cases. Slant rhymes are a matter of repeating an approximation of the same sound but not precisely rhyming. One way it is sometimes expressed is to repeat the vowel sounds but let the consonants drift to a greater or lesser extent.zootsuitmod wrote:Oh yes just the way I planned it to be.......... I think!zootsuitmod -- interesting mixture of (mostly) full rhymes on the line ends) but some nicely slanted internal rhymes: "dislike", "astride"; "intone", "listen"; and "spout pouting" is a nice assonance.
No, sorry Bodkin this proved too much for me any internal slanted rhtmes were pure luck. Perhaps I might win the Lottery this week?
Which end rhymes were slanted? Was conference and fence slanted?
Actually upstarts / heart was the only slanting on an end-rhyme and a missing "s" is possibly the very least degree to which a rhyme can slant, more of a veered rhyme really.
But the point is not to do it perfectly but to do it every day...
On the subject of which, I must put in today's prompt.
Ian
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Beginnings
Under a young Sun
evolution creeps, prone,
studies the barren sand,
the bubble of magma.
The air smells of sulphur.
Shrugs shoulders not yet bony
and sinks back into the waves,
submerges to the high pressure
of hydrothermal vents
where heated water wells
from the sea bed, where
two proto-cells sit side by side.
Here, in the warmth,
is something to work on.
(more alliteration and assonance than slant rhyme, I'm afraid...)
Under a young Sun
evolution creeps, prone,
studies the barren sand,
the bubble of magma.
The air smells of sulphur.
Shrugs shoulders not yet bony
and sinks back into the waves,
submerges to the high pressure
of hydrothermal vents
where heated water wells
from the sea bed, where
two proto-cells sit side by side.
Here, in the warmth,
is something to work on.
(more alliteration and assonance than slant rhyme, I'm afraid...)
Rosencrantz: What are you playing at? Guildenstern: Words. Words. They're all we have to go on.
___________________________
Antiphon - www.antiphon.org.uk
___________________________
Antiphon - www.antiphon.org.uk
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Orphée
never meant to be the burden
he now inevitably was, never intended
to be the curtain drawn across the life
she had and that which she chose to share
with the other wives. He'd read no rubric,
owned no manual, in fact, his relationship
with Truth could be described as casual at best.
Deceit, he had concluded, was to marriage
as an egg is to an omelette, or gravy
to an Englishman's palate. Nevertheless,
his drunken pity plays— crude analogies
involving pubic hairs and toilet seats,
nostalgic reminiscences of a time when alcohol
was whimsical and cigarettes still sexy—
were beginning to grate more than bore.
As the post-coital Dean would later declare
to his dozing and dissatisfied assistant,
navel-gazing at a faculty shindig was akin
to opening a window at an orgy.
~
___________________________________________________________________
Hope it's OK to post another. Ros' swipes at the lack of slant rhymes inspired me to have another go.
Will be back later to comment on others.
B.
~
never meant to be the burden
he now inevitably was, never intended
to be the curtain drawn across the life
she had and that which she chose to share
with the other wives. He'd read no rubric,
owned no manual, in fact, his relationship
with Truth could be described as casual at best.
Deceit, he had concluded, was to marriage
as an egg is to an omelette, or gravy
to an Englishman's palate. Nevertheless,
his drunken pity plays— crude analogies
involving pubic hairs and toilet seats,
nostalgic reminiscences of a time when alcohol
was whimsical and cigarettes still sexy—
were beginning to grate more than bore.
As the post-coital Dean would later declare
to his dozing and dissatisfied assistant,
navel-gazing at a faculty shindig was akin
to opening a window at an orgy.
~
___________________________________________________________________
Hope it's OK to post another. Ros' swipes at the lack of slant rhymes inspired me to have another go.
Will be back later to comment on others.
B.
~