RLW
Speaking the truth with love....and rhyme. :) RLW = RhymeLovingWriter (AKA a lady from the wheat fields of KS) rhymelovingwriter.com
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Define Poetry using Prose Essay Format Only. No Fiction. 75 - 150 words. Mass tagged posts will call for automatic disqualification.
Written by RLW

Inside - Out

Definition of poetry? My heart and soul spilled across a page. A stirring from within which niggles, often driven by emotion - willing fingertips to keypad for the tap, tap, tapping which enlivens full release.

A turn of phrase composed within a shortened, metered passage, spent and spending noise and notions bumping back and forth between each brain-bled line.

Perhaps from fact - yet far more often fancifully expressed.

A lyrical, lured and loved into existence; bound to form by choice - or not. Endings and beginnings optional as fare - perhaps a poem down drops itself without regard to plot.

In short, it's all that prose is not.

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Define Poetry using Prose Essay Format Only. No Fiction. 75 - 150 words. Mass tagged posts will call for automatic disqualification.
Written by RLW
Inside - Out


Definition of poetry? My heart and soul spilled across a page. A stirring from within which niggles, often driven by emotion - willing fingertips to keypad for the tap, tap, tapping which enlivens full release.

A turn of phrase composed within a shortened, metered passage, spent and spending noise and notions bumping back and forth between each brain-bled line.

Perhaps from fact - yet far more often fancifully expressed.

A lyrical, lured and loved into existence; bound to form by choice - or not. Endings and beginnings optional as fare - perhaps a poem down drops itself without regard to plot.

In short, it's all that prose is not.
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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Father, Forgive Us

Down, beyond the streetlight damping

stood a stranger lost and stamping

stars of golden embers. Tamping

fires of feuding clans to black.

Found alone among his betters

bounded by constricting fetters

none could satisfy the debtors

waiting. Shadows sensed attack

by the turn of booted tanner

borne aloft in vicious manner.

Under wars audacious banner

actions feral earned a pass.

Men would wonder, sore confessing

what, between, deserved such pressing;

stripping hope of birthright blessing

from a son of Eden’s class.

None could answer, truth beholding

innocence by parties. Scolding

privilege untamed by molding

from staid fathers down to sons.

Ways of ages made excuses.

Past to present piled abuses

left to right among the muses

dangled as sufficient duns.

Tales foreboding, sorry, sadder

poisoned spite, as deadly adder

struck each rung of justice ladder,

coating all with venom’s spew.

Darkest earth globe ever spinning

man on man since time’s beginning.

None, original in sinning,

Eves or Adams – me – or you.

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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Father, Forgive Us
Down, beyond the streetlight damping
stood a stranger lost and stamping
stars of golden embers. Tamping
fires of feuding clans to black.

Found alone among his betters
bounded by constricting fetters
none could satisfy the debtors
waiting. Shadows sensed attack

by the turn of booted tanner
borne aloft in vicious manner.
Under wars audacious banner
actions feral earned a pass.

Men would wonder, sore confessing
what, between, deserved such pressing;
stripping hope of birthright blessing
from a son of Eden’s class.

None could answer, truth beholding
innocence by parties. Scolding
privilege untamed by molding
from staid fathers down to sons.

Ways of ages made excuses.
Past to present piled abuses
left to right among the muses
dangled as sufficient duns.

Tales foreboding, sorry, sadder
poisoned spite, as deadly adder
struck each rung of justice ladder,
coating all with venom’s spew.

Darkest earth globe ever spinning
man on man since time’s beginning.
None, original in sinning,
Eves or Adams – me – or you.
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To rhyme or not to rhyme...that is the question? Prose only. 75-150 words.
Written by RLW

Doing What Comes Naturally

With a moniker like RhymeLovingWriter (RLW) it shouldn't surprise I tend toward putting same-sounding words together when I write. I've tried my hand at free/blank verse too. Rhyme still sometimes sneaks itself in among the lines. Sometimes the material created dictates a need for rhyme (i.e. themed treasure hunts). Because I 'think' in rhyme, the tendency is strong to yield to sing-song silliness when pen meets paper. It's a natural fit for me.

Then too, when prose is called for (as in this challenge), it would be counterproductive to splash the page with Suess-i-cal mirrored magic. I've read other entries. I'm glad we have varied viewpoints. Another, who is quite comfortable with prose, will shine in a non-rhyming arena.

The end boils it down to context and conditions. Some poetic forms dictate rhyme, some forbid it, and some lie in that glorious middle ground.

Then there's the pros at Prose.

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To rhyme or not to rhyme...that is the question? Prose only. 75-150 words.
Written by RLW
Doing What Comes Naturally

With a moniker like RhymeLovingWriter (RLW) it shouldn't surprise I tend toward putting same-sounding words together when I write. I've tried my hand at free/blank verse too. Rhyme still sometimes sneaks itself in among the lines. Sometimes the material created dictates a need for rhyme (i.e. themed treasure hunts). Because I 'think' in rhyme, the tendency is strong to yield to sing-song silliness when pen meets paper. It's a natural fit for me.

Then too, when prose is called for (as in this challenge), it would be counterproductive to splash the page with Suess-i-cal mirrored magic. I've read other entries. I'm glad we have varied viewpoints. Another, who is quite comfortable with prose, will shine in a non-rhyming arena.

The end boils it down to context and conditions. Some poetic forms dictate rhyme, some forbid it, and some lie in that glorious middle ground.

Then there's the pros at Prose.
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Written by RLW

T is for Tornado (Trio of Tongue Twisters)

Friday’s fearful-felt misfortune

formed a frenzied funnel force,

fleecing foliage from fair forests

felled misfortune, found off course

folded firs from flounce of fission

flank-filleted by flighted foe.

(filleted is pronounced fi-leyd)

~~~

Twirling twiglets tossed through terror

turning tons of turf-toed trees

traipsing tease told top to tree top,

twilight timing; tense-set pleas.

Tugged till torn through tensile traction

tales told true of twister’s take.

~~~

Wilding winds whipped worried waiters,

wielded whooshing, woeful whirl.

Wary, watching where we waddle,

weighing what was once our world,

weary work with wordless wincing;

wiping wind-whipped waste away.

Note: Two separate tornadoes ripped through our town last Friday night. No fatalities, but about 8-10 people lost their homes. We were lucky in the scheme of things as we personally only lost a considerable amount of large branches from the trees around our home. It all happened while we were out of town at a family celebration. I'll be doing a blog post on the subject, hopefully publishing later today. I thought I'd put it out here also, to my fellow Prosers.

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Written by RLW
T is for Tornado (Trio of Tongue Twisters)
Friday’s fearful-felt misfortune
formed a frenzied funnel force,
fleecing foliage from fair forests
felled misfortune, found off course
folded firs from flounce of fission
flank-filleted by flighted foe.
(filleted is pronounced fi-leyd)

~~~

Twirling twiglets tossed through terror
turning tons of turf-toed trees
traipsing tease told top to tree top,
twilight timing; tense-set pleas.
Tugged till torn through tensile traction
tales told true of twister’s take.

~~~

Wilding winds whipped worried waiters,
wielded whooshing, woeful whirl.
Wary, watching where we waddle,
weighing what was once our world,
weary work with wordless wincing;
wiping wind-whipped waste away.



Note: Two separate tornadoes ripped through our town last Friday night. No fatalities, but about 8-10 people lost their homes. We were lucky in the scheme of things as we personally only lost a considerable amount of large branches from the trees around our home. It all happened while we were out of town at a family celebration. I'll be doing a blog post on the subject, hopefully publishing later today. I thought I'd put it out here also, to my fellow Prosers.
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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse

To be Young

protect each sainted soul

brought wholly innocent

into this world slavered

by compunctioned bell toll.

one choice, two;      on and on

roll out each brothers' take

with stakes through hearted bounds;

hound of heavens' toil - pawned.

get on then, without pained,

back-glanced review.     do right…

faith, hope, charity thy

might.      boldly break through chained

ideals that steal, leaving

skinned knees amid scabbed hearts.

we touch, then peel away

tall grasses sheaving

slow to steady on.       reap

no nightmares drawn upon

those templed, tender lids.

no tears.      no fears.       just sleep.

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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse
To be Young


protect each sainted soul
brought wholly innocent
into this world slavered
by compunctioned bell toll.

one choice, two;      on and on
roll out each brothers' take
with stakes through hearted bounds;
hound of heavens' toil - pawned.

get on then, without pained,
back-glanced review.     do right…
faith, hope, charity thy
might.      boldly break through chained

ideals that steal, leaving
skinned knees amid scabbed hearts.
we touch, then peel away
tall grasses sheaving

slow to steady on.       reap
no nightmares drawn upon
those templed, tender lids.
no tears.      no fears.       just sleep.
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Written by RLW in portal Religion

Simple Plea

cry for me

tear-dropped dew

of anguish,

down dribbled

duct to chin.

thin lies of

sorrows spent

within old

dungeons, trapped.

bones to bare,

spare me. sweet

lipped succor

caped in crown

jeweled angst.

not yet there.

where then to

meet? we greet

each day hope

hearted new.

poor hearts flew

to heaven’s gate

by spate of

ruinous lore.

no more. please

Lord, no more.

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Written by RLW in portal Religion
Simple Plea


cry for me
tear-dropped dew
of anguish,
down dribbled
duct to chin.

thin lies of
sorrows spent
within old
dungeons, trapped.
bones to bare,

spare me. sweet
lipped succor
caped in crown
jeweled angst.
not yet there.

where then to
meet? we greet
each day hope
hearted new.
poor hearts flew

to heaven’s gate
by spate of
ruinous lore.
no more. please
Lord, no more.

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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Thirty – An Exercise in June

Just

understand –

nobody

expects

 jousting;

 unless

 (k)nights

 encounter

  jeweled

  unicorns.

  Never

  extrapolate

   justice

   unethically.

   Nurture

   everyone’s

    joy,

    undertaking

    new

    endeavors.

     Judgment

     unbidden

     negates

     experience.

      Joists

      upholding

      numbered

      entrances

       juxtapose

       useful

       nude

       edges

        jutting

        upward.

        Now

        everything

         jaundiced

         unravels

         nutated

         exhalations;

joining

ululating

natives.

Encouraging

 jagged

 ulcerations

 never

 elicits

  jaunty

  umbrages.

  Naughty

  elves

   justify

   unkempt

   nails,

   exclaiming

    jolly

    utterances;

    noels

    expedited

     jeeringly.

     Umami

     noodles

     excite

      jurors;

      unexpectedly

      nutritious

      enrichment.

       Junior

       undertakers

       navigate

       eternity’s

        jurisprudence

        usefully;

        needing

        every

         justly

         unexcitable

         nerve

         exposed.

Journeys

unplanned,

necessitate

elasticity.

 Jugglers’

 uniformity

 nurtures

 exceptional

  jocularity.

  Untrimmed

  nasturtiums

  emit

   jubilantly

   undeterred

   nebulosity.

   Eggs

    jostled,

    unilaterally

    need

    enclosures.

     Joining

     unbroken

     numbers,

     explorers

      journeyed

      until

      natural

      exigencies

       jerked

       unsuspecting

       neophytes

       entirely.

        Java,

       unlike

       nondescript

       entrees,

        jolts

        unregulated

        nerves

        ecstatically.

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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Thirty – An Exercise in June


Just
understand –
nobody
expects

 jousting;
 unless
 (k)nights
 encounter

  jeweled
  unicorns.
  Never
  extrapolate

   justice
   unethically.
   Nurture
   everyone’s

    joy,
    undertaking
    new
    endeavors.

     Judgment
     unbidden
     negates
     experience.

      Joists
      upholding
      numbered
      entrances

       juxtapose
       useful
       nude
       edges

        jutting
        upward.
        Now
        everything

         jaundiced
         unravels
         nutated
         exhalations;

joining
ululating
natives.
Encouraging

 jagged
 ulcerations
 never
 elicits

  jaunty
  umbrages.
  Naughty
  elves

   justify
   unkempt
   nails,
   exclaiming

    jolly
    utterances;
    noels
    expedited

     jeeringly.
     Umami
     noodles
     excite

      jurors;
      unexpectedly
      nutritious
      enrichment.

       Junior
       undertakers
       navigate
       eternity’s

        jurisprudence
        usefully;
        needing
        every

         justly
         unexcitable
         nerve
         exposed.

Journeys
unplanned,
necessitate
elasticity.

 Jugglers’
 uniformity
 nurtures
 exceptional

  jocularity.
  Untrimmed
  nasturtiums
  emit

   jubilantly
   undeterred
   nebulosity.
   Eggs

    jostled,
    unilaterally
    need
    enclosures.

     Joining
     unbroken
     numbers,
     explorers

      journeyed
      until
      natural
      exigencies

       jerked
       unsuspecting
       neophytes
       entirely.

        Java,
       unlike
       nondescript
       entrees,

        jolts
        unregulated
        nerves
        ecstatically.

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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Proliferative Mob

day upon day,

night over night

wellsprings of beauty;

horror; struggle;

love or honor lent

running to grasp

with faintest cue

wonder –

that is you (plural)

Prosers – now

or ages past –

I salute, succumb,

savor such

pondering powers

displayed in profligate

reams of rich, recalcitrant

verse

would that many

minutes more

marked each

day

I

can’t

keep

up

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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Proliferative Mob
day upon day,
night over night
wellsprings of beauty;
horror; struggle;
love or honor lent

running to grasp
with faintest cue
wonder –
that is you (plural)

Prosers – now
or ages past –
I salute, succumb,
savor such
pondering powers
displayed in profligate
reams of rich, recalcitrant
verse

would that many
minutes more
marked each
day

I
can’t
keep
up
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’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.' This is a piece taken from Lewis Carol's "Jabberwocky", one of my favorite poems of all time. Even though the poem is written in gibberish, with words from Carol's own imagination, it still manages to convey meaning and capture a strong tone. Poems don't have to make sense to be enjoyable. Write your own poem in gibberish, but try to capture a certain tone, funny, solemn, urgent, mysterious. If it has a rhythm or meter, all the better. But most importantly, have fun! 100 coins to the winner.
Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse

The Goldenest Rule

If wizzles were snizzles and sniffles were snu,

remembring disembling could crucify you.

Right off with your headers from youlder to yawl,

conundrumming slumbering dally-ma-dawl.

Your sigh at the sight of the sniggling snoud

(those pointers who jointedly sniggle out loud)

would freezingly fry every inchy blood blue,

confoundingly pounding most tempest review.

Tough hangingly banging, behindedly left,

for sinnerly winners, woe-gonely bereft,

no solacing somberment, salvingly spread

could smather the lather of dumb numbing dread.

But then! in the stinklingest inkling around,

your off-headed dreadies warp wildly, unwound

flat out at a speed, seeding dust in the wind,

while sigh-sounding cruciform grudgingly grinned.

Last word-stuttered utter on pawllish parade,

“Surcease such secreting of wizz-snizzled splay!”

The course moralled madly must babblingly be:

Do tutu allothers as theydo to me.

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’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.' This is a piece taken from Lewis Carol's "Jabberwocky", one of my favorite poems of all time. Even though the poem is written in gibberish, with words from Carol's own imagination, it still manages to convey meaning and capture a strong tone. Poems don't have to make sense to be enjoyable. Write your own poem in gibberish, but try to capture a certain tone, funny, solemn, urgent, mysterious. If it has a rhythm or meter, all the better. But most importantly, have fun! 100 coins to the winner.
Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse
The Goldenest Rule


If wizzles were snizzles and sniffles were snu,
remembring disembling could crucify you.
Right off with your headers from youlder to yawl,
conundrumming slumbering dally-ma-dawl.

Your sigh at the sight of the sniggling snoud
(those pointers who jointedly sniggle out loud)
would freezingly fry every inchy blood blue,
confoundingly pounding most tempest review.

Tough hangingly banging, behindedly left,
for sinnerly winners, woe-gonely bereft,
no solacing somberment, salvingly spread
could smather the lather of dumb numbing dread.

But then! in the stinklingest inkling around,
your off-headed dreadies warp wildly, unwound
flat out at a speed, seeding dust in the wind,
while sigh-sounding cruciform grudgingly grinned.

Last word-stuttered utter on pawllish parade,
“Surcease such secreting of wizz-snizzled splay!”
The course moralled madly must babblingly be:
Do tutu allothers as theydo to me.

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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Anniversaries

to touch your sweet soft hair again,

to breathe in toddler smiles with sighs

when giggle-prompted peek-a-boo

was height of hope in Grandma’s eyes.

another year ticked slow away

among a nine-span now been braved,

for memories clung fast with hope

still surface, past the body graved.

this little soul who waits beyond

to welcome us – in hope, believe

with joy, this face again we’ll kiss,

no more to wait, no more to grieve.

hold melancholy not, as fruit

of life event each man must face

instead, perchance, rise higher on

to render love, and joy embrace.

while saints commune from heaven’s side

on earth, ‘mid pilgrims bended knees

keep faith, with hope in love abide

these three, sweet balm to pain surcease

a smile, for Landon, shared today

for all who mourn in sorrowed wake

along with toast for brighter days

when sprited step replaces ache

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Written by RLW in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Anniversaries

to touch your sweet soft hair again,
to breathe in toddler smiles with sighs
when giggle-prompted peek-a-boo
was height of hope in Grandma’s eyes.
another year ticked slow away
among a nine-span now been braved,
for memories clung fast with hope
still surface, past the body graved.
this little soul who waits beyond
to welcome us – in hope, believe
with joy, this face again we’ll kiss,
no more to wait, no more to grieve.
hold melancholy not, as fruit
of life event each man must face
instead, perchance, rise higher on
to render love, and joy embrace.

while saints commune from heaven’s side
on earth, ‘mid pilgrims bended knees
keep faith, with hope in love abide
these three, sweet balm to pain surcease
a smile, for Landon, shared today
for all who mourn in sorrowed wake
along with toast for brighter days
when sprited step replaces ache

#grief  #hope  #remembering  #Landon 
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