An Ottava Rima originates as an Italian poem made up of eight lines with the rhyme pattern ab/ab/ab/cc. First introduced by Sir Thomas Wyatt in the late 13th to early 14th century.  Each line consists of eleven syllables.

CHANGE OF SEASON

Wicked Winter strives to retain its powers

and prove itself the mightiest of season

With biting winds that chill the spring's first showers

But gentle Spring does nudge our nature's reason

Her warm invite provokes to wake the flowers

and smiles her sunshine bringing birds and bees on

Finally Winter yields its hold and passes

applauded by the flowers trees and grasses

 A Clerihew is an English poem invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley around 1890 at the age of 16. It is presented in two couplets, the first and second lines rhyme with each other, and the third and fourth lines rhyme with each other (aa/bb). The first line ends with the name of a well known person or character, and the second line ends with something that rhymes with that name. A clerihew should be whimsical.

JOHN WAYNE

I offered a drink to a tired John Wayne

He had recently arrived here in town on a train

Someone told him "You're old and can't cowboy no more"

and with one solid move was laid out on the floor

 DOLLY PARTON

The show featured songs sung by great Dolly Parton

In the audience cheering and lighters were startin'

But one guest was obviously drunken and lewd

Escorted out while the audience and star loudly booed

Free Verse: A type of poetry with no strict meter or rhyme, yet  are recognizable as poetry by the writer's expression, style or use of literary tools such as alliteration, cadence or rhythm.

Morning Hike

The first wisps of morning

peek through faded edges

of my kitchen curtains.

I pull laces tight

on my heavy shoes

and summon my partner

who I find waiting

already at the door.

She dances impatiently

as I attach the leash.

In minutes we are on the road

that winds past my winter worn yard.

Where the blacktop ends,

my life begins.

My footsteps become brisker

my lungs feel renewed

taking in the crisp,

fresh air sweeping from the river

across the tall dry grasses

waving their greeting.

Here I free my joyful dog

to romp and bury her nose

in the layers of leaf

and weed residue.

Her playfulness inspires me.

I laugh and run

as she quickly chases

slyly staying

just out of my reach.

Our progress slows

as we near the river.

I watch the rippling,

burbling water.

Though unseen, I hear

the call of loons

and songbirds trilling

their songs to intimate mates.

We sit together in the sand briefly,

until she ventures out

on her own private exploration.

I allow my daydreams to wander

as the sky puts on a slideshow

of misshapen images.

Reluctantly, my companion

joins me as I turn back

to erase the lighthearted imprints

of my previous footsteps.

Season Change

In a cafe booth

I watch a young mother

cooing to her newborn

with a rather

disheartening realization

that I do not feel

the yearning I used to

to hold my new baby in my arms.

I must have passed through

some portal of age

where time

gently took from me

that maternal yen

and paid me for it

with gray hair

and aching bones.

Then I hear

in that melancholy moment

the chirping voices

of my grandchildren

who shout out greetings

when they see me

and I understand

a little better

the subtle exchanges

our creator designed

and thank him silently

amid hugs and menus.

When A Poet Passes

A book

poised

under soft light

of a Noachian lamp

displayed on a heavy oak desk

Words

brought from mortality

Every rhyme

each iamb

bound by ethereal hands

to bide in harmony

with aged rune

A jacket of brown leather

oiled by placid hands

Pages curled

by pencil calloused fingertips

preserved now for all of time

in heaven’s ambry

Out My Window

One soft maple

towers at the edge of a travel-worn circle drive

surrounded by Chinese elm bushes with lush new hairdos.

A long strip of cultivated earth

contains yellow iris

and soon-to-bloom tiger lilies

working hard to cast out the tenacious, unwelcome blades of grass.

Two recently pruned apple trees,

stand like islands in the grass circle

still fresh with memories

of their gay pink and white adornment

only days ago.

Beyond the circle

lies a winding dead end road

bordered by budding coneflowers

and freckled white Queen Anne's Lace.

.An occasional robin or yellow finch

unknowingly performs for us,

or a squirrel ceases his roam and flashes his tail

at the tap of this window pane,

while I absently search for inspiration

to write of something beautiful

Delusional March

Golden tendrils

from an almost risen sun

paint a widening promise

across the river valley.

The rocky southwestern shoreline

seems to raise

its face

to the radiant presence.

Burbling, impatient water,

though,

casts off the feigned warmth,

wittingly aware

of the whipping wind

sustaining winter's

confident grip.

It swallows,

crossly,

the mendacious beams

that flaunt a shimmering beauty

and carries them downstream

depositing them here and there

between the lapping ripples.

Once Again

Once again

the solemn faces greet me

as I walk

the ponderous stretch to the coffin.

Paying last respects is monstrous;

making one feel helplessly vulnerable,

inadequate.

All of my being aches

for the anguish and sorrow

hovering like ghastly cologne;

unable to be vanquished with words

or embrace.

My age weighs heavy

knowing

I am nearer to tear stained faces of mourners

over my still body

than I care to admit.

Mortality wields a herculean fist

that reflects

from the shiny new casket

and glossy leaves of surrounding bouquets.

With flashes of envy,

I see the youngest eyes,

filled with question and wonder

at the unnatural behavior of loved ones

and strangers;

sensing that something sinister and unspeakable

exists amidst them.

In the silenced room, words are spoken,

music permeates.

My soul is pierced by sobs

repressed

through tissue wrapped fingers

and grief- stricken shudders..

Gravediggers

waiting at the edge of the cemetery

to finish their task,

evoke a sense of resentment

at their callous disinterest

in the proceedings where I stand.

Once again

the cars leave

in much less formation than they arrived.

People stand talking in small groups

around cold headstones.

My shoes

carry away freshly exposed earth

that once gave life

to the lush green grass

of this final resting place.

Tears

The tall white

taper in the

lower sconce trembled

as the door

closed like

it was waving

goodbye As if frozen

I watched the hot

wax tears rolling

downward

silently

thanking it for

making the necessary

motions

Ageless

He doesn’t know

what pose he offers.

My eyes

upon the bent and wrinkled lyrist

echo back to me

my intrusion.

His limp arms

sway slightly as he shuffles

to his accustomed park bench

His fingers delineate

beauty like that he has created

even through their dull arthritic ache.

He opens a baggie

and tosses crumbs to his favored

companions.

A Tyburn Poem is a six-line poetic form where the first four lines consist of just a single, two syllable word each, that all rhyme. Line 5 has nine syllables, with the fifth to eighth syllables using the words from lines 1 and 2 plus a one syllable word to further describe the image. Line 6 also has nine syllables, with the fifth to eighth syllables using the words from lines 3 and 4 plus another one syllable word rhyming with the final word in Line 5 to sew the image together.

Cloudburst

                       Shaking

                      Quaking

                      Waking

                      Breaking

Earth in tremor shaking, quaking loud

the skies command waking, breaking cloud

Winter

                       Easy

                       Breezy

                       Sneezy

                       Wheezy

Wind through my door easy, breezy bold

Wrapped in layers sneezy, wheezy cold

PB&J

                      Punky

                     Chunky

                     Funky

                     Spunky

Shell the peanuts punky, chunky roast

Grind till creamy funky, spunky toast

Injury

                        Sobbing

                       Throbbing

                       Hobbling

                       Wobbling

Smashed my toenail sobbing, throbbing OW!

Need for crutches hobbling, wobbling now

Shower

whirly twirly

curly squirrely

breezes frolicking whirly twirly play

rain on window panes curly squirrely spray

Haiku is a traditional Japanese  three-line poem with seventeen syllables, divided in lines with 5/7/5 syllable pattern. Haiku generally focus on images from nature. Often untitled, it is a striking feature of the haiku that direct discussion of the poem's implications is forbidden. Sometimes writers of this form take leeway by a syllable or two either way and even transform other variables, such as reverse haiku 7/5/7.

Touch

tender bud blossoms

cloistered in satin and lace

neath a virile thumb

REVERSE HAIKU

Early Spring

may apples huddle in groups

morel mushroom shade

beneath an elm umbrella

The decima of Puerto Rico is a style of poetry that is octosyllabic and has 10 lines to the stanza. The rhyming scheme is ABBAACCDDC. It is spoken, sung and written throughout Latin America with variations in different countries.  A person who writes or improvises décima is known as a decimista or decimero.

Good Intentions

I wish to rid this world of stress

make everyone a happy soul

to ease all pain; maintain control

provide all people food and dress

to turn sadness to happiness

I wish for this with all my heart

Try as I may I cannot start

For I am only one, you see

My own emotions hinder me

until I can't tell them apart

Limerick: A popular form in children’s verse, the limerick is often comical, nonsensical, and sometimes even lewd. Composed of five lines, the limerick adheres to a strict rhyme scheme and bouncy rhythm, making it easy to memorize. Typically, the first two lines rhyme with each other, the third and fourth rhyme together, and the fifth line either repeats the first line or rhymes with it. The stress pattern is 1.) - / - - / - - / 2.) - / - - / - - / 3.) - / - - / 4.) - / - - / 5.) - / - - / - - /

Apple to Apple Limerick

Green apple said to the red

I love that cute stem on your head

I wish it were mine

it would make me look fine

but mine is unsightly instead

Timidly Yellow spoke up

I'm a humble and petrified pup

Your colors are scary

I have to be wary

I'm afraid I'll end up in a cup

Red, who was fancy and proud

spoke unnecessarily loud

I know I'm the best

and he pumped out his breast

trying to prove he was aptly endowed

Then bi-color started to speak

in a tone neither haughty nor meek

pride, fear or browbeaten

We all will be eaten

there are none of us grossly unique

CINDERFELLA

In a quaint little fairy tale city

Lived a cinder-faced boy and his kitty

His stepfather beat him

his stepbrothers would cheat him

without even one ounce of pity

Every day was the same as the last

warned to finish his household chores fast

so he washed and he mopped

and never once stopped

till the hours of daylight had passed

After scrounging for something to eat

the boy and his cat would retreat

to his space in the attic

which was never traumatic

peeking down at the cobblestone street

One particular night as he spied

he saw danger and loudly he cried

"Get out of the way!"

as a single horse sleigh

and an old man did nearly collide

The old man was grateful indeed

that he'd escaped the horrific stampede

He said to the boy

I will gladly employ

anything that you think you might need

The little lad humble and kind

shook his head as he smiled and declined

I simply ask that

your gift go to my cat

that is of course, if you don't mind

Thus the cat and the old man conversed

and from that day the boy's life reversed

He was not reprimanded

No longer commanded

for his dad and stepbrothers were cursed

For a wizard was strolling one night

when a horse and sleigh gave him a fright

He was alerted in time

by a boy, face of grime

who thought more of his cat than his plight

So a moral comes out of this tale

that if hard work and kindness prevail

There may come a day

that your actions will pay

so upon your cat highly regale

A Cinquain is poetry with five lines. Line 1 has one word (the title). Line 2 has two words that describe the title. Line 3 has three words that tell the action. Line 4 has four words that express the feeling, and line 5 has one word which recalls the title in another word

(often metaphorically)

              Bats

   winged mammals

hunting flying swooping

  seems they're after me

          vampires

                Fingers

        human appendages

   pointing snapping tapping

     defines sense of touch

               Feelers

           Wedding

          joyful event

marching singing uniting

     two become as one

           promise

               Dog

      faithful comrade

sniffing barking romping

     piece of my heart

             friend

Glosa: In its strict form it is a poem consisting of a line or a short stanza called cabeza (or texto), stating the theme of the poem and followed by one stanza for each line of the cabeza explaining or glossing that line and often adding a refrain as the first or last line, or both. The cabeza may be any length or rhyme scheme and the poet is free to choose any other form.

Aromas from the kitchen beckon me

Its hard to wait for dinner patiently

My mother blends her spices perfectly

Like peppermint or cinnamon in tea

Mouthwatering I'm sure you will agree

Aromas from the kitchen beckon me

But Mom I know, won't listen to my plea

one teeny sip would set my taste buds free

no one I know is resolute as she

Its hard to wait for dinner patiently

HAVEN

A bed of needles lay beneath the pine

The haven was a special place of mine

Closely planted trees on hill's incline

denied admssion to the hot sunshine

Yet warm and dry provided safe confine

A bed of needles lay beneath the pine

No better place had I to take recline

Time spent there in childhood design

Low branches tucked aside with wisps of twine

The haven was a special place of mine

Tanka: (also called uta or waka) is an unrhymed thirty-one-syllable poem, traditionally written in a single unbroken line in five-line, 5/7/5/7/7 syllable count form. The tanka employs a turn, known as a pivotal image, which marks the transition from the examination of an image to the examination of the personal response. This turn is located within the third line,connecting the upper poem, with the lower poem.

Fragile silver lace

daintily spans the corner

beneath the stair step

like strings of my heart trembling

when I see you cry

A young October

on an enchanting hayride

his hand takes hers

as it had some years before

beginning life together