"To be or not to be" By William Shakespeare (Iambic)
To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
"Tyger" By William Blake (Trochaic)
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare sieze the fire?
Hiawatha's Childhood (Trochaic) By: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By the shores of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis. Dark behind it rose the forest, Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees, Rose the firs with cones upon them; Bright before it beat the water, Beat the clear and sunny water, Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.
Jabberwocky (Iambic) By; Lewis Carroll
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!"
In Memory of W.B. Yeats (Trochaic) By: W.H. Auden You were silly like us; your gift survived it all: The parish of rich women, physical decay, Yourself. Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry. Now Ireland has her madness and her weather still, For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives In the valley of its making where executives Would never want to tamper, flows on south From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs, Raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives, A way of happening, a mouth.
Twelfth Night (Iambic) By: William Sahakespeare If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Earth, receive an honoured guest; William Yeats is laid to rest: Let this Irish vessel lie Emptied of its poetry. - W.M. Auden
Iambic Foot (most of Shakespeare):
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. - Twelfth Night, Shakespeare
Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing woolly bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee, Little Lamb, I'll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For He calls Himself a Lamb: He is meek, and He is mild; He became a little child: I a child, and thou a lamb. We are called by His name. Little Lamb, God bless thee. Little Lamb, God bless thee.
Trochaic: Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare sieze the fire?
lambic: Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!" N.K
Sir: The poem "The Ship" is mine, you have copy-pasted it without my permission and on top, you have not given me any form of credit, since I am the author and the poem is MY SPIRITUAL PROPERTY.. I have reported the incident to Google. Here is the location you have copied it from: (( http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=513115 )) DO NOT COPY ANY OF MY POEMS FOR ANY REASON, AGAIN, SIR!
The poem (The ship (Her Soul the Sea)) is MY SPIRITUAL PROPERTY. I am the author and owner of it, and you have copy-pasted it here, without asking for my permission (which i would NOT grant to you). You did not offer me any form of credit for my ownership, either. I have reported the incident to Google. Here is the link you have copy-pasted it from: (( http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=513115 )) DO NEVER COPY ANY OF MY POEMS, again, sir. I expect you to delete this post immediately. (Thursday, March 6, 2014). (Read my answer below, too.)
Iambic:
ReplyDeleteI have a beautiful cat
She’s always sleepy
But when she wakes she’s bad
And makes me angry
Trochaics:
Helmer is always loud
I always getting angry
He really makes me
Sick when he talks
Too much!!
"To be or not to be" By William Shakespeare (Iambic)
ReplyDeleteTo be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
"Tyger" By William Blake (Trochaic)
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
H.E
Hiawatha's Childhood (Trochaic)
ReplyDeleteBy: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,
Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis.
Dark behind it rose the forest,
Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees,
Rose the firs with cones upon them;
Bright before it beat the water,
Beat the clear and sunny water,
Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.
Jabberwocky (Iambic)
By; Lewis Carroll
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
S.Y
In Memory of W.B. Yeats (Trochaic)
ReplyDeleteBy: W.H. Auden
You were silly like us; your gift survived it all:
The parish of rich women, physical decay,
Yourself. Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry.
Now Ireland has her madness and her weather still,
For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives
In the valley of its making where executives
Would never want to tamper, flows on south
From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs,
Raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives,
A way of happening, a mouth.
Twelfth Night (Iambic)
By: William Sahakespeare
If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
M.S
Trochaic Foot (closest to modern English speech):
ReplyDeleteEarth, receive an honoured guest;
William Yeats is laid to rest:
Let this Irish vessel lie
Emptied of its poetry. - W.M. Auden
Iambic Foot (most of Shakespeare):
If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
G.K
M.Y.
ReplyDeleteIambic
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. - Twelfth Night, Shakespeare
M.Y.
ReplyDeleteTrochaic
Earth, receive an honoured guest;
William Yeats is laid to rest:
Let this Irish vessel lie
Emptied of its poetry. - W.M. Auden
iambic
ReplyDeleteWhen I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
'Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
-E. Housman
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing woolly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee:
He is called by thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb:
He is meek, and He is mild;
He became a little child:
I a child, and thou a lamb.
We are called by His name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee.
Little Lamb, God bless thee.
I.K
Trochaic:
ReplyDeleteTyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
lambic:
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
N.K
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteSir: The poem "The Ship" is mine, you have copy-pasted it without my permission and on top, you have not given me any form of credit, since I am the author and the poem is MY SPIRITUAL PROPERTY.. I have reported the incident to Google. Here is the location you have copied it from: (( http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=513115 )) DO NOT COPY ANY OF MY POEMS FOR ANY REASON, AGAIN, SIR!
ReplyDeletePlease, delete the post where you included my poem (The ship (Her soul the Sea)), sir.
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThe poem (The ship (Her Soul the Sea)) is MY SPIRITUAL PROPERTY. I am the author and owner of it, and you have copy-pasted it here, without asking for my permission (which i would NOT grant to you). You did not offer me any form of credit for my ownership, either. I have reported the incident to Google. Here is the link you have copy-pasted it from: (( http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=513115 )) DO NEVER COPY ANY OF MY POEMS, again, sir. I expect you to delete this post immediately. (Thursday, March 6, 2014). (Read my answer below, too.)
ReplyDelete