faith goble
Poets, Pixels, & Prose Logo
An original design completely created in Adobe Illutrator, this is the comment and invite icon for my Poets, Pixels, & Prose group. I hope any of my friends who add any type of poetry of prose (either original or quoted) to their photos will join this group
Poetry at Play
In my poetic ration
I like a little alliteration;
Award it ample admiration.
And as for astute assonance,
I am enamored and entranced--
Enchanted by its sweet romance.
Ruskin’s pathetic fallacy
Sounds Shakespearean to me;
And when the lonesome wind moans
Over the hard-hearted stones,
Or chaste stars in their vestal choir
Sing vespers with pure hearts afire,
Or if a world-oppressing sun
Sets his fusion gun to stun
Then I sit back and watch the fun.
And I applaud when words escape
From their restraints
And break Houdini-like
Out of their padlocked cage;
Or if they sing a sweet swan song,
I am enraptured and amazed;
And as they take their final bow
Upon their paper stage,
I throw red roses at their feet
Before I turn the page.
If it knows to never mix it up,
Sly metaphor cannot be beat
(Except to death perchance),
But it must be careful,
Wise,
And neat,
Know when
To step its measured dance,
And when to take its seat.
And as for rhyme . . .
I like it almost all the time.
Taken from Elementa, 2008
Faith Goble
Poets, Pixels, & Prose Logo
An original design completely created in Adobe Illutrator, this is the comment and invite icon for my Poets, Pixels, & Prose group. I hope any of my friends who add any type of poetry of prose (either original or quoted) to their photos will join this group
Poetry at Play
In my poetic ration
I like a little alliteration;
Award it ample admiration.
And as for astute assonance,
I am enamored and entranced--
Enchanted by its sweet romance.
Ruskin’s pathetic fallacy
Sounds Shakespearean to me;
And when the lonesome wind moans
Over the hard-hearted stones,
Or chaste stars in their vestal choir
Sing vespers with pure hearts afire,
Or if a world-oppressing sun
Sets his fusion gun to stun
Then I sit back and watch the fun.
And I applaud when words escape
From their restraints
And break Houdini-like
Out of their padlocked cage;
Or if they sing a sweet swan song,
I am enraptured and amazed;
And as they take their final bow
Upon their paper stage,
I throw red roses at their feet
Before I turn the page.
If it knows to never mix it up,
Sly metaphor cannot be beat
(Except to death perchance),
But it must be careful,
Wise,
And neat,
Know when
To step its measured dance,
And when to take its seat.
And as for rhyme . . .
I like it almost all the time.
Taken from Elementa, 2008
Faith Goble