Haiku A Japanese poetic form made up of three lines with a total of seventeen syllables, usually arranged 5-7-5.
Etheridge Knight Eastern Guard Tower Glints in Sunset; Convicts rest Like lizards on rocks The piano man Is stingy at 3 am His songs drop like plum.
Limerick A light verse (humorous and usually rhymed) consisting of a five-line stanza rhymed… A A B B A
A poem attributed to Woodrow Wilson • A…I Sat next to the duchess at tea; • A…It was just as I feared it would be: • B…Her rumblings abdominal • B…Were truly phenomenal, • A…And everyone thought it was me!
Muse • The spirit force or person that inspires or impels a poet to create. • The deity which epic poets such as Homer invoke at the beginning of their poems, specifically one of the Greek goddesses, daughter of memory who spoke through the artists she inspired.
Beginning to The Odyssey Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story Of that man skilled in all ways of contending The wanderer, harried for years on end, After he plundered the stronghold On the proud height of Troy.
Refrain A line that is repeated, repeated, repeated, repeated…like the chorus of a song. This happens especially at the end of a stanza. (From time to time the words can change, but a recognizable phrase must stay.)
The Pasture by Robert Frost I’m going out to clean the pasture spring; I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the water, I may): I shan’t be gone long.- You come too. I’m going out to fetch the little calf That’s standing by the mother It totters when she licks it with her tongue I shan’t be gone long.- You come too.
Sonnet A poem of fourteen lines. -Usually rhymed -Usually in Iambic Pentameter Generally presents an argument, most often a romantic plea. Shakespearian sonnets rhyme abab, cdcd, efef, gg.
Sonnet 130 My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground, And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.