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General Poetry‧28 種英文詩歌型態簡介及範例‧12
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| 發帖人 主題標題： | General Poetry‧28 種英文詩歌型態簡介及範例‧12 回覆數: 1 點數: 1254 | 第 1 樓 |
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時間：2005-06-18 06:02
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General Poetry‧28 種英文詩歌型態簡介及範例‧12 摘自 天下文壇 畢泠 2005-06-18 06:02 http://yuhsia.com/ccb/index.pl General Poetry‧28 種英文詩歌型態簡介及範例‧12 大家好！這是澳洲詩友所整理的簡易英文詩歌分類， 從 A 至 Z，28種類型，簡單的解說及詩詞作品範例， 很容易明瞭，是很好的參考！ 歡迎練習寫作。 Abcedarian， Acrostic，Australian Bush Poetry， Ballad， Ballade，Cinquain， Clerihew，Concrete， Diamonte， Dodoitsu， Epic，[color=Blue] General Poetry[/color]， Haiku，kyrielle， Limerick， Nonet， Parallelismus Membrorum， Quatern， Rictameter， Rondeau， Rondelet， Senryu， Shakespearian Sonnet， Tetractys， Than-Bauk，Triolet， Tyburn， Villanelle * 天下文壇 天下文壇 畢泠 2005-06-18 06:02 http://yuhsia.com/ccb/index.pl |
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| 回覆： | General Poetry | 第 2 樓 |
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時間：2005-06-18 06:05
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General Poetry 摘自 天下文壇 畢泠 2005-06-18 06:05 http://yuhsia.com/ccb/index.pl [b]GENERAL POETRY [/b] This poetry is a selection of both [color=Blue]rhyme[/color] and [color=Red]free verse[/color]. [b]Winter Ills [/b] Cold winds blow snowflakes fall, breezy draughts in the hall. Winter's here with it chills, coughs and colds, doctor's bills. Runny nose then a sneeze, Will you pass tissues please? [b]Closing the Cover [/b] Finishing a chapter doesn't mean you've reached the end. It means you've reached a new beginning. Finishing a book doesn't mean you close it forever. Share it, then read it again another day. [b]To Ted [/b] I read your words the other day notice of your leaving, I didn't know you very well. I'm not really grieving but I felt a twinge of sadness, to learn that you'd soon go. I wrote down this small verse for you and wanted you to know. I looked forward to your emails, they always made me smile. Your quirky sense of humour had me going for a while. As things change we must move on. We leave when we are ready. Now when I process invoices I'll miss the one from Teddy. We wish you all the very best. Good luck from Phil and Sue. We'll raise a glass to your success Your future waits for you. [b]I'm Tired [/b] One poem left to write. Words fail late at night. I'm tired need some sleep. Must write this won't keep. Short verse will this do? Next time I'll write two. My muse did not wait. she left 'cause it's late. [b]Trapper Man [/b] Old Roger is a trapper man, bossloper through and through. His main meal hare and dumpling dust, just plain old rabbit stew. He lives on Craggy Mountain in a hut just off the trail. If you search hard you will find it, look for moccasin mail. He hasn't much, just possibles he leads a simple life, some flint and steel, an old tin cup, a frypan and a knife. Enough to keep him warm at night and cook himself a feed. The good lord hath provided him he has no other need. I once thought he'd gone beaver, thought he'd up and died. I searched the mountain high and low and crossed the river wide. Then WAGH! I jumped right through my skin. Someone had fired a gun. I was so scared, near soiled my pants then broke out in a run. Ran straight into old Roger. "Just steady down my lad. That bug-tit needs a lesson 'cause he's behavin' bad." "Slow down, we'll go behind him. Make sure you stay downwind. We'll Indian up from the rear and make him disciplined." Old Roger tied him to a tree and took away his gun. "Gant up that rope," he told me, "you listen too my son." "There aint no need to shoot them birds or aux aliments du pays. It's this here land that feeds us well You'd better change your ways." The man stood shaking in his boots he prayed and told the lord, "for food, I'll take God's creatures now but not when I am bored." He set him free and said to me "Come back and have some stew. You'll be a skookum trapper yet." I said, "I'll be like you." I ate my meal too quickly, larrupt, I had to go. Old Roger is a trapper man, the best I'll ever know. [b]Me [/b] At the moment I'm pensive, reflecting on times in the not too distant past when I was just so happy. Everything was going right. I don't think anybody has had a week like I've just had. Now I'm sad. Things happen. I try to do what's right but nobody teaches life, we just live it. We learn by our own mistakes. I often think I'm not good enough. I'm uncertain about some of the paths I've chosen to take. What happened to the confident and outgoing woman I was a few weeks ago? I've withdrawn from the world a little, guarded now, and quiet instead of being so impulsive. I keep my feelings private instead of sharing them and being open for the world to see. Some people close to me say I'm complicated. I can't see how. I think I'm very easy to understand. I'm fun-loving, caring and very dedicated to those I love and to things I believe in. I'm righteous and loving, just a normal person. I don't care for people' opinions about me. I'm who I am, the best I can be. I'm me. [b]Drink[/b] Just think what drink will do to you. Have pop or stop, be through at two. You'll find your mind unclear with beer. The wine is fine. I hear it's dear. [b]Smelly Kelly [/b] Smelly Kelly sinned and grinned. He stole a cola, broke some wind. He drank then stank and thought it funny. Caught... He's forced to pay his money. [b]Illusion [/b] On an ignoble pedestal to force your will, selfish illusion clouds blue skies and sunny days. Short-lived delirium and blissful happiness replace commitment, content no more. Devastation will lessoned by re-learned routines as pandemonium is thoughtlessly inflicted on the masses. Chaos reigns. Wronged by do-gooders interference, resentment will fester like fungi in a steamy jungle. The chip you carry on your shoulder will expand like a balloon, until, inflated past its capacity, it bursts. Nobody wins. [b]Exasperated [/b] Polite request, blissful ignorance - I understand Steering direction, deferred action - I'm discerned Simple instruction, non-compliance - I'm annoyed Repeated Order, half-hearted attempt - I'm frustrated Forceful command, concerted effort - I'm relieved Polite request, selective deafness - I'm angry Unmistakable decree, blatant disregard - I simmer with resentment, boil over with rage and are TOTALLY EXASPERATED! [b]Two Strings[/b] You can't have your cake and eat it too. The only thing you do is ring in the changes, again and again. That poor girl has no choice, At first blush of you she's in best bib and tucker, blushing and bending over backwards while you only give her false hope. You made her pregnant, but for all you care she could lead the apes in hell. What she really neads is a fidus Achate and she thinks you could set the Thames on fire. I know different but you... You have two strings on one bow. Why don't you just acknowledge the corn and marry the girl. She thinks you are of the first water anyway. She woolgathers without you and has Hobson's choice about it. Root hog or die won't you, There'll soon be a child to consider. Don't ring in the changes again. Marry the girl! [b]Why Write a Poem? [/b] I am a star, one tiny dot in the heavens, insignificant. To most people on this earth, I am nothing, faceless, nameless, unknown. Writing for me is saying, "I am here. I am with you." I am the centre of my universe, a universe I want to share with you. You are a star too. [b]The Athlete[/b] Dormant now, asleep, still. Those years of torture and dedication Now have a different focus. Was it such a waste? Talent channelled down a one-way corridor, Promised reward for effort if the effort was exceptional. It takes a special person. What happened? You are special Your effort was exceptional. Do what it takes.. You always did no matter what the personal cost. Just because you closed the door Doesn't mean you can't open it again... [b]The Difference [/b] One lonely child hasn't any friends, One lonely child doesn't follow any trends, One lonely child's existance depends, On the difference that you and I can make. One lonely child is abandoned, all alone, One lonely child has no-one he can phone, One lonely child is only skin and bone, He eats bread while you and I eat steak. One lonely child really needs a guide, One lonely child has no-one on his side, One lonely child walks when others ride, Let us give and hope that he will take. One lonely child is cringing back in fright, One lonely child is slipping from our sight, One lonely child is giving up the fight, Hold out your arms, help him not to shake. Hold out your arms, help him not to shake. Let us give and hope that he will take. He eats bread while you and I eat steak. There is a difference that you and I can make. [b]Barbeque [/b] Yellow fingers danced through the charred grate, slowly at first, then gaining strength with each passing second until burning tounges licked the lacquered jarrah. There was a new master now, feeding. Feeding from chicken fat and oily drippings, that had accumulated from a summer of outdoor living. Like a festering wound, flickering arms reached higher, insatiable. Each consuming breath was breeding more power, more strength, and more mighty domination. The stench of burning flesh filled the air. Calmness and control versus what was growing to be a raging monster. Alarms squealed and pealed. All the while, the crackle was feeding. Thick, black smoke clouded in the alcove then was ushered through open windows to collect near the ceiling of empty halls. Alarms were screaming. Calmness prevailed. A nearby blanket failed to smother the intensifying flames that were still feeding, sucking in oxygen at every gap. Meat, Oil, Plastic, Wood, Smoke, Heat. Stay calm. Be prepared. One short spurt of CO² extinguished the frenzied hunger. The lesson here: If you are going to have a barbeque make sure you empty and clean the drip tray. Your life may depend on it. [b]Unappreciated [/b] Standing at the ironing board I'm feeling like a drudge I spend so many hours here That I hold such a grudge Nobody appreciates The toil I do all day They just complain 'bout what's not done I don't know why I stay I bear the brunt of their foul moods I put up with their curse The more I do the more they want Can it get much worse? I feel that I'm not up to scratch Sometimes I'd like to go I'm not Mrs Perfect As they tell me so No-one takes much notice Of the little things I do But are very quick to critisize Then make mess anew I love to see things shining Clean and sparkling fresh With a breeze through open windows But it's always such a mess No-one ever pulls their weight They leave it up to me If a little thing is out of place They wait for me to see Sometimes I will pick it up Sometimes I'll let it go It won't be long till hell breaks loose I'll tell them where to go For some of it I'm guilty Yes some of it is me I wish they'd do a little more They are my family [b]Gaia ... Mother Earth [/b] A cosmic enigma Grows out of the dark I feel new life pulsing That first tiny spark Cross borders of darkness Void of emotion Traverse through the starkness To maternal devotion I will bear the hero And see the fury Come forth out of zero Uranus and me I'm Gaia the mother First on this earth I'll leave behind chaos To gods I'll give birth To rivers to mountains To plains and to sea To all that is living To all that will be Gaea (also Gaia), or Mother Earth, was the great goddess of the early Greeks. She represented the Earth and was worshipped as the universal mother. In Greek mythology, she created the Universe and gave birth to both the first race of gods (the Titans) and the first humans. In the creation story of the ancient Greeks, Chaos came before everything else. Chaos was made of Void, Mass, and Darkness in confusion. Then Earth, in the form of Gaea, came into existance. From Mother Earth sprang the starry heavens, in the form of the sky god Uranus. From Gaea also came the mountains, plains, seas and rivers that make up the Earth as we know it today. Gaea, or Mother Earth, was the oldest of the gods of the early Greeks. She was known as the supreme goddess by humans and gods alike. She presided over marriages and oaths and was honoured as a prophetess. [b]Rambles [/b] Here I sit with pen in hand To write what comes to me To ramble on, to waffle To tell you what I see To take you on a journey Of the ravings in my mind Of everything and nothing The topic undefined The paper isn't scary But it remains quite blank It's all so airy fairy I need a big think tank. [b]Im-possible [/b] Faith was a real oxymoron whose life was strangely true. She started at full speed, gradually increasing pace and often sat in peopled solitude with the darkness visible. She was a poor little rich girl whose life was bitter sweet. An extraordinary spendthrift, her affairs were accidently on purpose an open secret. Faith wanted safe sex every night for a few days in a happy marriage with her bridegroom, the benevolent dictator from the United Nations. Without the verbal contract, she knew it wasn't worth the paper it was written on. She wanted the proud humility of painless childbirth. with Simon and Garfunkel's Sounds of Silence as background music. She had preposterous ideas on the balance of terror and played war games with friendly fire. In the war to end war, as well as a tactical nuclear weapon she used conventional weapons and a clean bomb. She was full of Irish Bull and Dutch Courage and sober enough to tell if she was drunk. Half the lies told about her are not true. She got a job in the police force that was open to qualified women regardless of sex. Her hands were so beautiful she wanted a bust made out of them. Not to mention her favourite food, fresh frozen peas and jumbo shrimps. She ate white chocolate from paper tablecloths and drank dry martinis from plastic glasses. She ate her tea with non-dairy cream at a plastic wood table. Not meaning to be unkind, but good grief! She is a living death. Paradise Lost in a deafening silence, Heavy lightness, serious vanity! Although she gets better and better she is not as good as she was. She makes me turn over in my grave and listen to my funeral sermon. Parting is such sweet sorrow. Include me out. In two words I find her im-possible. (With oxymorons borrowed from Noel Coward, Alfred Tennyson, Edmund Spenser, William Wordsworth, John Milton, William Shakespeare, Simon and Garfunkel, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Sir Boyle Roche, G K Chesterton, Paavo Nurmi, Samuel Goldwyn and others) [b]Be Free [/b] If you're lost in confusion Or trapped in despair Envision serenity See yourself there Dreams paint a picture Vivid and bright Make life a fantasy Sweetness and light Life is like magic You are what you see Break out from your prison Escape and be free [b]It's Me[/b] Whaaaaat. I told you I was busy. I haven't got time to scratch. Can't you see I've got to finish this. I haven't got much time. Oh, alright. Five minutes then. Eee yuck. You stink. When was the last time you had a bath. No wonder I don't spend much time with you. At least your hair smells nice. mmm... oh oh oh no. It isn't you. It's me. Sor-ry. [b]Waiting[/b] A poem A squashed insect A dead cat by the side of the road Reiminders are everywhere Forever is no time at all Or is it? Is a little knowledge a bad thing? The end won't change Only the journey Take the test... Wait... Tick-tock Tick-tock Tick-tock [b]Don't Let it Be Goodbye[/b] Sitting in the corner reaching for a quill, I contemplate what's happened here for all is deathly still. Whenever there was trouble out reached a helping hand, To dust off all the rubble it used to be so grand. A tugging at the heartstrings and whispered words of love, Open declarations, were things we did write of. We also wrote of dying, for that is part of life. Many were replying like a husband to a wife. Sharing fun and laughter, we put smiles on many faces. It made us feel good after filling all those empty spaces. Then someone told a story to keep us entertained. Some people didn't listen, but others still remained. If there was a point to make we'd write it down in ink. When things are significant, we really need to think. Then there were the sad times when we wiped away a tear. It often helps the healing if another lends an ear. We could say almost anything and share our written word, Familiar people caring, every voice was heard. If we needed excercise we'd work out in the gym. Sometimes we'd hear frustrated cries but it was never grim. There was feedback and discussion, we were able to relax. There was no repercussion, just our brains to tax. Collecting cherished memories, archived all together. Like thoughts and special moments our hearts and souls will treasure. Outstanding work deserves reward, and so do those that try. Come back we can see this restored. Don't let it be goodbye. Come back we can see this restored. Don't let it be goodbye... [b]Redcliffe City [/b] The secret north of Brisbane Us discerning readers know, Is our smiling city Redcliffe Has a place for us to go. Shady parks for our children, Safe beaches and jet skis, We can watch them as we barbecue And enjoy the ocean breeze. There are Dolphins playing football, And horses on the track, Restaurants, gardens, sports for all And tourists coming back. With churches, schools, clubs and shops Our city by the sea, Would have to rate a '10'. It's tops. It's where I want to be. * 天下文壇 天下文壇 畢泠 2005-06-18 06:05 http://yuhsia.com/ccb/index.pl |
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