Writing prompt week 5

[fishingthe_sky]

*We had a great time in the last prompt, and so I hope this one is just as, if not more, successful. If you've never attempted one of these before, please join in! The more poems we have, the more fun these will be. To anyone considering writing one but is unsure, don't worry about your level of talent or that you haven't participated in the past. These are here so that people of all degrees of experience can come together and write with the same goal in mind and help each other develop as writers, and first time posters are always welcome.


Well, it's that time again. As per the weekly rotation, it's time for another form-based prompt. And the week's prompt is... (cue drumroll)... INTERNAL RHYME! Now, we all know that much of poetry is based in its rhyme, but I think that quite often internal rhyme is overlooked for the sake of its line-ending brother. Internal rhyme can be a potent device that can move along a poem or excite the language while avoiding the obviousness of rhyming. Being able to command rhyme at any portion of one's lines is a vital skill for a poet, and therefore we're going to try it out.

For this poem, you're going to write one that has between 12-20 lines, and must have at least two stanzas, each of which must have at least 3 lines. Your poem must then have at least 5 instances of internal rhyme, meaning you'll have at minimum 10 words that are building rhymes. To clarify further: when I say internal rhyme, I do not mean that the rhyme should come in one line; rather, they will come in multiple lines, just like regular rhymes. Some other rules: don't supersaturate your poem and have an internal rhyme in every line, and you're only allow 2 instances of monosyllabic rhymes (line/fine, clock/sock, pig/dig, etc).

Some examples of internal rhyme (certainly not good ones, but just to give an idea):

I had an ache in my head from drinking,
lying in my bed all day, sick as a dog.

My digression of the subject
leads to the progression of her mood.

PS. Try to avoid regular rhymes, but you can do it if you keep it to a minimum.
PPS. For those who want an added challenge, try to make one of the internal rhymes span across two stanzas.




Good luck. I look forward to seeing all of these!

[OveriseFan]

If the internal rhyme spans across two stanzas... is it still internal rhyme? That seems a bit of a stretch to me. I don't know. Do you have an example in actual poetry?

I'll be working on this one more thoroughly than I worked on my last one, I think. The last one I kind of just wrote on the spot and posted. I'm going to be fine-tuning this one in the hopes of crafting something good.

[fishingthe_sky]

If the internal rhyme spans across two stanzas... is it still internal rhyme? That seems a bit of a stretch to me. I don't know. Do you have an example in actual poetry?

I'll be working on this one more thoroughly than I worked on my last one, I think. The last one I kind of just wrote on the spot and posted. I'm going to be fine-tuning this one in the hopes of crafting something good.
Sure it is. I mean, it may be something of a stretch, but it's certainly used. For example, this is from WCW's "Spring and All":

One by one objects are defined –
It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf

But now the stark dignity of
entrance – Still, the profound change
has come upon them: rooted, they
grip down and begin to awaken

I can't wait to see it, since I thought your last one was a solid piece.

[thespearkid]

I LOVE INTERNAL RHYME!

x

edit: funny this prompt goes up just as I've started avoiding abusing it.

[OveriseFan]

Sure it is. I mean, it may be something of a stretch, but it's certainly used. For example, this is from WCW's "Spring and All":

One by one objects are defined –
It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf

But now the stark dignity of
entrance – Still, the profound change
has come upon them: rooted, they
grip down and begin to awaken

I can't wait to see it, since I thought your last one was a solid piece.

Oh God, this is going to be hard for me... Is the internal rhyme "clarity" and "dignity"? I guess? That isn't so dramatic then - if it's the last line of one stanza and the first line of the next.

Very interesting. I'm looking forward to writing one for this prompt.

[fishingthe_sky]

Oh God, this is going to be hard for me... Is the internal rhyme "clarity" and "dignity"? I guess? That isn't so dramatic then - if it's the last line of one stanza and the first line of the next.

Very interesting. I'm looking forward to writing one for this prompt.
Yeah, that's the right rhyme. And yeah, I didn't mean for it to come across as something that needed to dramatic in any way. I apologize if that's how it seemed.

[TK]

This is going to be hard...mine's going to suck, ha.

[fishingthe_sky]

This is going to be hard...mine's going to suck, ha.
Don't say that; the worst thing you can do is put yourself in the mindset of failing. Just write.

[fishingthe_sky]

I LOVE INTERNAL RHYME!

x

edit: funny this prompt goes up just as I've started avoiding abusing it.
Haha we're going for control, not abuse. Consider this your AA for internal rhyme -- teaching you healthy habits haha.

[The Personist]

I wish this prompt were about alliteration...;-)

[Animalhill]

Wrote this today at work. I'm not sure how I feel about it- let me know!

A brief discourse of my tremulous lineage is essential
to understanding the marred means of
my conception and the charred outcome of my psyche.

Bred of oppressors and the oppressed I am not
suprised by the indescision of my breath when I am
pressed up against a harem-
Empathy or Conquest?

Ripped into the world by the empiric midwife
that is dubbed, "Rape"; it was a Cleric's
refusal of such a baptism that marked me.

And so bemused
but resolute, I paw at the
roots of every day in hopes
of finding any kind of source
that I may rinse my head in-
alleviating me of both responsibility and
my need of a reason.

[The Personist]

Wrote this today at work. I'm not sure how I feel about it- let me know!

A brief discourse of my tremulous lineage is essential
to understanding the marred means of
my conception and the charred outcome of my psyche.

Bred of oppressors and the oppressed I am not
suprised by the indescision of my breath when I am
pressed up against a harem-
Empathy or Conquest?

Ripped into the world by the empiric midwife
that is dubbed, "Rape"; it was a Cleric's
refusal of such a baptism that marked me.

And so bemused
but resolute, I paw at the
roots of every day in hopes
of finding any kind of source
that I may rinse my head in-
alleviating me of both responsibility and
my need of a reason.

I think when you say "empiric" you mean "imperial," correct?

The last stanza is my favorite--"And so bemused/but resolute, I paw at the/roots of every day" is a pretty cool idea. I also think you used internal rhyme quite nicely, here; however, I think the piece in general seems a little confused. There isn't much unifying the stanzas, and I think this works best when you hit the last stanza. The story of your birth, or rather the narrator's birth, is less poetic than that last bit. I think you should find a way to discuss the meaning or the significance of the past than the actual events.

Also, I don't like the use of the word "rape." I think "rape" is hard to use in poetry, and is best used when not meant to actually signify rape (if that makes sense; like, I think figurative rape is more interesting in poetry than actual rape, and if you're going to use actual rape, I think calling it "rape" takes some of the fun out of reading it. But that's just a personal opinion).

[Mike Smith]

Ok so i actually kind of had fun doing this prompt haha

This might make no sense, but i don't care. I wrote this off the top of my head and didn't take me too long to do it.

So here it is:

I love it when the reach of the waves
Engraves the rocks on the shore
The land just sort of disappears
So no ones there to see
This very rare of atmospheres

I love the way the never ending surf
Comes crashing down on the turf
When the clouds are gray
And my cheeks, the cold spray stings
When the deserted stretch is bleak

The ocean has an emotional tug
Like the pull of a drug so powerful
The wind forms a comb in the weeds
And I rejoice my needs alone


I'm totally satisfied by the tide
For when others spoil, I veer away
To wait, hibernate, while it's still nice
For I like the storms, for they entice

[The Personist]

Writers block = broken, at least for now, and here's my response to the prompt. I'm hoping that, just to spite fishy, I have broken at least one rule. I also forgot to count my internal rhymes, but there are at least one of them. The grammar in that sentence was deliberately bad so I could build the suspense and then trick you. Anyways, enough of my (explanatory) wankery. Here's my poetic wankery:



When writing became the penultimate concern, I
knew I needed a Muse. To determine what kind
And which one would best accommodate my
Hollow purple eyes and propensity for linguistics,
I turned to my closest friends.

Thomas scoffed and spurned my advances, and
Robert chuckled coldly. William said I had
Potential, but needed more reality to offset my
Ideas. Arthur drank and cursed. I sighed and
Decided I had lost the small grey window of
Poesy, but as I clawed my way from the pages
Of this party, I tripped over Frank, who was painting
Complacency in a blue dress with earrings.
I told him of my fears, of my rejection.

"Selections of polysyllables do not this world describe!
Fuck those guys! Find The Muse in you, not
Them, and paint the world Orange!" With a flourish,
He slipped into something pinker than my
Appetite and bolted down the dapper
Stairs. I looked at the floor and became the blue guitar.

[thespearkid]

as the elite leer over the precipice of societal
stability, the rest of us gather noisily behind
a lemon shaped boulder to watch the elders
wage an intellectual war with the jagged stars
hundreds of feet below. warwick is the youngest,
still older than any of us. he refuses to tackle
the future, citing his opposition to violence, and
science can't give him the same warm kisses that
mom used to offer while washing dishes. still, he
wishes facts and figures, though concrete, were
just a little bigger.

and all for what? i'd rather drip pools of sweat into
oceans on the carpet than leave the warmth just to
understand what cold is!

(I noticed what really got me here was some of the other requirements. Like I said, I'm a big fan of internal rhyme but getting it to two paragraphs presented a challenge for me.)

[TK]

Don't say that; the worst thing you can do is put yourself in the mindset of failing. Just write.

Eh, I tried. Really didn't have anything to write about, so this is pretty forced. Not sure if I met the requirements or not.

Battling out in these wars of semantics
Trying to iron out the differences
Between ideas and ideals;
These battles were poorly planned
Not quite articulated or drawn out
Before the first sketch or rough draft
That would have shown which of these
Portions have been blow out of proportion.

Now we're throwing sticks and stones
Instead of these fizzled words
And I feel so reluctant
To even consider calling this day
Productive; feels like another lie
Or would it just be another time that I
Had a poor definition of something
That I never really understood.

[thespearkid]

Eh, I tried. Really didn't have anything to write about, so this is pretty forced. Not sure if I met the requirements or not.

Battling out in these wars of semantics
Trying to iron out the differences
Between ideas and ideals;
These battles were poorly planned
Not quite articulated or drawn out
Before the first sketch or rough draft
That would have shown which of these
Portions have been blow out of proportion.

Now we're throwing sticks and stones
Instead of these fizzled words
And I feel so reluctant
To even consider calling this day
Productive; feels like another lie
Or would it just be another time that I
Had a poor definition of something
That I never really understood.
Ideas to ideals and portions to proportions are both cool turns of phrase. It's the kind of thing I used to love to throw into poems at the drop of a dime. Also, reluctant to productive is brilliant, especially with the rhythm in which you use them. I'm not sure if "lie to I" was meant to be part of the internal rhyme but they're not supposed to go on the ends of the line. Outside of internal rhyme, I found the image of "fizzled words" to be fascinating. I have an idea for what the meaning of this poem could be but I'm probably pretty far off.

As a whole, I'd give this poem about a 6.8/10 (I'm going to start using a pitchfork style rating system when I read poetry haha.)

[The Personist]

Ideas to ideals and portions to proportions are both cool turns of phrase. It's the kind of thing I used to love to throw into poems at the drop of a dime. Also, reluctant to productive is brilliant, especially with the rhythm in which you use them. I'm not sure if "lie to I" was meant to be part of the internal rhyme but they're not supposed to go on the ends of the line. Outside of internal rhyme, I found the image of "fizzled words" to be fascinating. I have an idea for what the meaning of this poem could be but I'm probably pretty far off.

As a whole, I'd give this poem about a 6.8/10 (I'm going to start using a pitchfork style rating system when I read poetry haha.)

If you pitchfork my poems I'm breaking up with you.

[thespearkid]

If you pitchfork my poems I'm breaking up with you.
Every day, there are certain events that are inherent to the rising and setting of the sun. We will all pay sales tax, we will all feel the effects of the weather on our daily activities, and we will all read a post from David on AP.net. So, here we are; another day and another post. In this, his latest effort, David gives us more of the what made us fall in love with him in the first place. His quirky posts, full of pseudo-jerklike humor, have captivated audiences for months. However, that may be the problem. He has yet to offer us anything new in the past few posts. Perhaps, we all just were tricked into believing one could be quirky and sarcastic to no end. We were lied to.

3.4/10

[TK]

Ideas to ideals and portions to proportions are both cool turns of phrase. It's the kind of thing I used to love to throw into poems at the drop of a dime. Also, reluctant to productive is brilliant, especially with the rhythm in which you use them. I'm not sure if "lie to I" was meant to be part of the internal rhyme but they're not supposed to go on the ends of the line. Outside of internal rhyme, I found the image of "fizzled words" to be fascinating. I have an idea for what the meaning of this poem could be but I'm probably pretty far off.

As a whole, I'd give this poem about a 6.8/10 (I'm going to start using a pitchfork style rating system when I read poetry haha.)

Lie and I rhyming was just by coincidence, I was trying to have an internal rhyme with time/I. And I'm interested in hearing what you think it's about, because if you guess it, I'll be amazed. It's one of the most random things I've ever written.

And 6.8? Wow, I wouldn't give it higher than a 5, hahaha. I'm glad you liked it though.

[thespearkid]

Lie and I rhyming was just by coincidence, I was trying to have an internal rhyme with time/I. And I'm interested in hearing what you think it's about, because if you guess it, I'll be amazed. It's one of the most random things I've ever written.

And 6.8? Wow, I wouldn't give it higher than a 5, hahaha. I'm glad you liked it though.
I feel like it might be about the God thread. I'm probably off though. haha.

[The Personist]

Every day, there are certain events that are inherent to the rising and setting of the sun. We will all pay sales tax, we will all feel the effects of the weather on our daily activities, and we will all read a post from David on AP.net. So, here we are; another day and another post. In this, his latest effort, David gives us more of the what made us fall in love with him in the first place. His quirky posts, full of pseudo-jerklike humor, have captivated audiences for months. However, that may be the problem. He has yet to offer us anything new in the past few posts. Perhaps, we all just were tricked into believing one could be quirky and sarcastic to no end. We were lied to.

3.4/10

Monkey pees in butt.
.2/10

[thespearkid]

Monkey pees in butt.
.2/10
Fascinating, intriguing, but I can't help feeling like I've heard it before.

5.3/10

[TK]

I feel like it might be about the God thread. I'm probably off though. haha.

:appl:

Correct.

[TK]

Monkey pees in butt.
.2/10

Where does their poop go? In the butt as well?

[thespearkid]

:appl:

Correct.
w00t. I'm proud of myself.

[The Personist]

Where does their poop go? In the butt as well?

The genius of this writing is my ambiguity as to whose butt it was.

.1/10 for your lameness.


(P.S. I dig your poem)

[Undue Noise]

I've never participated in these prompt threads before, but I think they're a very good idea. I wrote this a couple days ago as we had to write a poem in class with a continuous theme of the ocean/sea/body of water etc. and I think it fits this prompt. Not sure if I like it all that much, but I thought that I'd contribute something.

I wade alone in the name of stability
Laden with ambition and stunted
Hope. To be alive and alone
With this contrived sense of pride
I call to you; the seas and the ocean
Unease takes precipice as I realise;
I have lost my being.

Through the unmade bed
Of corals that swayed so tenderly;
Before I disturbed their ocean current
Motion to me, o holy sea
How have I become separate?
Succumbed to the temptation
Of a life alone.

“For what?” I ask. “What purpose is it to have
To come home and unmask, as the daunting
Task leaves me bereft of feeling.”
An ocean full of memories
Will not stop me from drowning.

[SomedayTheFire]

Not great at internal rhyme but here goes.

Silence, the night is just starting
With dazzled spectators and
curious gazes fighting for control
Seemingly he finds her
Not like he would assume
Aberrant cases of waiting
For days and cutting the trees
From beneath her feet and
Tearing the pieces from which
She has made herself a life

A night out of house,
Sweaters with creases and
lifelike abhorrence.
She drives to the last stop
And takes out her next shot
Ongoing fights and
silent reprieves, she’s
Caught in the headlights
She’s alone in her car but
not alone in her head.
Not alone in her thoughts

[The Personist]

Time for a litany of critiques. I feel bad because I've been rather lazy about reading other people's stuff, but I'm going to do so now. My apologies, Fishy, for stealing your thunder once again!

Ok so i actually kind of had fun doing this prompt haha

This might make no sense, but i don't care. I wrote this off the top of my head and didn't take me too long to do it.

So here it is:

I love it when the reach of the waves
Engraves the rocks on the shore
The land just sort of disappears
So no ones there to see
This very rare of atmospheres
The "disappears/atmospheres" end rhyme feels rather contrived, and really distracted me. Also, your internal rhyme--waves/Engraves--is very blatant, and also feels somewhat forced. "The land just sort of disappears" doesn't feel very poetic, and "this very rare of atmospheres" doesn't make sense as a sentence.

I love the way the never ending surf
Comes crashing down on the turf
When the clouds are gray
And my cheeks, the cold spray stings
When the deserted stretch is bleak
Again, the end rhymes are awkward and forced, and your internal rhyme is monosyllabic and blatant. I think you should strive for more subtlety in that department--and in general. The poem is very apparent. Everything I need is on the surface.


The ocean has an emotional tug
Like the pull of a drug so powerful
The wind forms a comb in the weeds
And I rejoice my needs alone
Tug/drug = blatant.
Telling us that the ocean is emotional and druglike is just that: telling, rather than showing. You should try to show us that without saying it outright. Comb/alone is perhaps the best example of internal rhyme in here, and it's still prey to the monosyllabic blatancy of the others.


I'm totally satisfied by the tide
For when others spoil, I veer away
To wait, hibernate, while it's still nice
For I like the storms, for they entice
Satisfied/tide is something Pete Wentz might say. Same with wait/hibernate. I feel like your internal rhymes really were distracting, though the central problem, as I see it, was that you were very superficial in this poem as it is. Painting a picture is fine, but you simply said "there's an ocean hitting the shore and it makes me feel things." This sort of vague statement has nothing that entices, nothing to keep me reading from stanza to stanza. I know you like Robert Frost; I think you should study the way he allows the scene itself to evoke the emotions, rather than telling us what to feel. He's quite brilliant at that.



as the elite leer over the precipice of societal
stability, the rest of us gather noisily behind
a lemon shaped boulder to watch the elders
wage an intellectual war with the jagged stars
hundreds of feet below. warwick is the youngest,
still older than any of us. he refuses to tackle
the future, citing his opposition to violence, and
science can't give him the same warm kisses that
mom used to offer while washing dishes. still, he
wishes facts and figures, though concrete, were
just a little bigger.

and all for what? i'd rather drip pools of sweat into
oceans on the carpet than leave the warmth just to
understand what cold is!

(I noticed what really got me here was some of the other requirements. Like I said, I'm a big fan of internal rhyme but getting it to two paragraphs presented a challenge for me.)

Firstly, excellent use of internal/indirect rhyme. You did not abuse it and you demonstrated teh techniques perfectly. Unfortunately, since Warwick reminds me of Wicket from Star Wars (the actor's name is Warwick or something, and Wicket's last name is Warrick...I'm a nerd, shut up), the name distracted me a bit. However, I like this. I think, beyond the prompt, it warrants expanding into more of a complete narrative. As is, though, it matches the prompt well and I enjoy it.


Eh, I tried. Really didn't have anything to write about, so this is pretty forced. Not sure if I met the requirements or not.

Battling out in these wars of semantics
Trying to iron out the differences
Between ideas and ideals;
These battles were poorly planned
Not quite articulated or drawn out
Before the first sketch or rough draft
That would have shown which of these
Portions have been blow out of proportion.

Now we're throwing sticks and stones
Instead of these fizzled words
And I feel so reluctant
To even consider calling this day
Productive; feels like another lie
Or would it just be another time that I
Had a poor definition of something
That I never really understood.
Firstly, your last line should read: "And in the end, David won because he confounded like 5 or 6 atheists who had to resort to the 'you're pretentious' defense." :-p But seriously, I'd like to echo Dion's earlier comments on it. You did a good job with some of the internal rhyme. I'm not a fan of "sticks and stones," necessarily, and wonder if you couldn't come up with something else to go there instead of that tired idiom. But definitely far from dreadful.

I've never participated in these prompt threads before, but I think they're a very good idea. I wrote this a couple days ago as we had to write a poem in class with a continuous theme of the ocean/sea/body of water etc. and I think it fits this prompt. Not sure if I like it all that much, but I thought that I'd contribute something.

I wade alone in the name of stability
Laden with ambition and stunted
Hope. To be alive and alone
With this contrived sense of pride
I call to you; the seas and the ocean
Unease takes precipice as I realise;
I have lost my being.

Through the unmade bed
Of corals that swayed so tenderly;
Before I disturbed their ocean current
Motion to me, o holy sea
How have I become separate?
Succumbed to the temptation
Of a life alone.

“For what?” I ask. “What purpose is it to have
To come home and unmask, as the daunting
Task leaves me bereft of feeling.”
An ocean full of memories
Will not stop me from drowning.

When you say "takes precipice," do you mean "takes precedent"? Anyways, I think your internal rhyme is competent, but I feel like there's a lot of cliched or overdone sentiment in here. You DID, however, use one of my favorite words--"bereft." I would, however, try to separate some of the ocean imagery--which I like, or at least is a solid start--from the actual events, and try to, as I suggested to Mike Smith, convey the emotions and capture the feelings in the imagery itself. As it stands, I feel like you're painting a picture and then explaining what it's of as you go. Try to take out the explanation; let the imagery speak for itself.

[TK]

Firstly, your last line should read: "And in the end, David won because he confounded like 5 or 6 atheists who had to resort to the 'you're pretentious' defense." :-p But seriously, I'd like to echo Dion's earlier comments on it. You did a good job with some of the internal rhyme. I'm not a fan of "sticks and stones," necessarily, and wonder if you couldn't come up with something else to go there instead of that tired idiom. But definitely far from dreadful.


Ha, six? You keep count? Lol.
Thanks for the feedback. I never understand how you come up with the time and energy to critique so many poems; I get tired after critiquing one.

[The Personist]

Ha, six? You keep count? Lol.
Thanks for the feedback. I never understand how you come up with the time and energy to critique so many poems; I get tired after critiquing one.

It takes a lot of time, but I think anyone who cares about their work deserves the time it takes, and also that critiquing helps me see what's being done well in others' work so I can apply it to my own, perhaps.

I really enjoy critiquing, and not just because I like opining. I think it's fascinating and always a worthwhile endeavor. There are times when I am frustrated and get dismissive or am unhelpful and sometimes rude, but only when I think people are doing things purely for praise or because they think they're hot shit, and that they don't care about something I want to dedicate my life to.

I can't just write poetry; I need to know how to read it and write ABOUT it. At least, that's how I feel about it.

[Undue Noise]

When you say "takes precipice," do you mean "takes precedent"? Anyways, I think your internal rhyme is competent, but I feel like there's a lot of cliched or overdone sentiment in here. You DID, however, use one of my favorite words--"bereft." I would, however, try to separate some of the ocean imagery--which I like, or at least is a solid start--from the actual events, and try to, as I suggested to Mike Smith, convey the emotions and capture the feelings in the imagery itself. As it stands, I feel like you're painting a picture and then explaining what it's of as you go. Try to take out the explanation; let the imagery speak for itself.
Sorry it took a while to get back, but thank you for the advice. I do tend to be too explanatory but I think the analogy of painting a picture helped me understand why the poem seemed a bit forced. Thanks for the help!

[TK]

When writing became the penultimate concern, I
knew I needed a Muse. To determine what kind
And which one would best accommodate my
Hollow purple eyes and propensity for linguistics,
I turned to my closest friends.

Thomas scoffed and spurned my advances, and
Robert chuckled coldly. William said I had
Potential, but needed more reality to offset my
Ideas. Arthur drank and cursed. I sighed and
Decided I had lost the small grey window of
Poesy, but as I clawed my way from the pages
Of this party, I tripped over Frank, who was painting
Complacency in a blue dress with earrings.
I told him of my fears, of my rejection.

"Selections of polysyllables do not this world describe!
Fuck those guys! Find The Muse in you, not
Them, and paint the world Orange!" With a flourish,
He slipped into something pinker than my
Appetite and bolted down the dapper
Stairs. I looked at the floor and became the blue guitar.

I enjoyed this, although the first line of the last stanza is awkward. Did you intend for it to be like that? Shouldn't describe be after do not? Other than that, I thought this was pretty solid. The last stanza was my favorite, and I loved how you personalized this whole poem. I know this is short, and probably worthless feedback, but feedback nonetheless it is!

[The Personist]

I enjoyed this, although the first line of the last stanza is awkward. Did you intend for it to be like that? Shouldn't describe be after do not? Other than that, I thought this was pretty solid. The last stanza was my favorite, and I loved how you personalized this whole poem. I know this is short, and probably worthless feedback, but feedback nonetheless it is!

IT was helpful feedback, even if your last line made fun of my stilted diction. I was hoping for that to be like an "out of left field" surprise, but I guess it didn't read as such. Thanks, though.