I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end.
You want to know how to rhyme, then learn how to add. It's mathematics.
Natural, hell! What was it Chaucer Said once about the long toil that goes like blood to the poems making? Leave it to nature and the verse sprawls, Limp as bindweed, if it break at all Life's iron crust Man, you must sweat And rhyme your guts taut, if you'd build Your verse a ladder.
End rhymes are not enough. Every word-sound in a poem should find an echo in another, neighbouring word's sound to achieve what Ezra Pound called melopoeia. (This is something like what the Welsh call Cynghanned.)
Rhyme and meter force gaps in meaning so the muse can enter.
A lot of my rhymes are just to get chuckles out of people. Anybody with half a brain is going to be able to tell when I'm joking and when I'm serious.
The past does not repeat itself, but it rhymes.
Today you are you! That is truer than true! There is no one alive who is you-er than you!
All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme.
Constantly risking absurdity and death whenever he performs above the heads of his audience, the poet, like an acrobat, climbs on rhyme to a high wire of his own making.
I'm not just making rhymes and making melodies. I'm expressing my true life force, energy.
For the world was built in order around the atoms march in tune; Rhyme the pipe, and Time the warder, The sun obeys them, and the moon.
My mother was always fascinated with the fact that I could rhyme so much stuff.
You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You're on your own, and you know what you know. And you are the guy who'll decide where to go.
Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells, From the bells, bells, bells.
I was always making up rhymes. But I never thought that poetry would become my life.
Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one.
A person's a person, no matter how small.
Our actions are like blank rhymes, to which everyone applies what sense he pleases.
Cheap little rhymes A cheap little tune Are sometimes as dangerous As a sliver of the moon.
History may not repeat, but it often rhymes.
Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try!
As soon as war is declared it will be impossible to hold the poets back. Rhyme is still the most effective drum.
Great is the art, Great be the manners, of the bard. He shall not his brain encumber With the coil of rhythm and number; But, leaving rule and pale forethought, He shall aye climb For his rhyme. "Pass in, pass in," the angels say
Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck.
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