A Monorhyme is a poem in which all the lines have the same end rhyme. Here is a list of Most Viewed Monorhyme Poems written by members. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
The Wisdom Of Solstice
Light now the fires that warm the hearth;
Mistress Winter dons her long white gown.
Light now the candle of remembrance,
for another year has circled around.
See the faces of those here gathered,
for love, too, can make the cold hearth warm.
Huddle all near and share your stories,
for outside blows the first winter storm.
Make now your peace and speak forgiveness.
In your sweetest voice, sing Yuletide song.
Grab and hold dear these precious moments,
for ne’er again shall they come along.
Recognize that the cold grey landscape,
holds bits of ourselves that change or die.
There in the stillness we find our truth;
new bits of wisdom that never lie.
Remember, release, then joyful be
this festive, unfolding Solstice night.
A new path before us - blessed be!
The past sleeps covered in Winter’s white.
Mistress Winter dons her long white gown.
Light now the candle of remembrance,
for another year has circled around.
See the faces of those here gathered,
for love, too, can make the cold hearth warm.
Huddle all near and share your stories,
for outside blows the first winter storm.
Make now your peace and speak forgiveness.
In your sweetest voice, sing Yuletide song.
Grab and hold dear these precious moments,
for ne’er again shall they come along.
Recognize that the cold grey landscape,
holds bits of ourselves that change or die.
There in the stillness we find our truth;
new bits of wisdom that never lie.
Remember, release, then joyful be
this festive, unfolding Solstice night.
A new path before us - blessed be!
The past sleeps covered in Winter’s white.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2014
About this poem:
Blessed be you all this Solstice Night.Come Swing With Me!
Come swing with me
In the apple orchard beneath the trees,
Where pink and white blossoms
On a summer breeze softly float.
Come swing with me after dark
In the silvery moonlight in the park.
Perhaps we'll steal a kiss or two
When no one's looking at me and you.
Come swing with me after church
In the lea where grows the birch,
Smartly dressed in our sunday best
When everyone else has gone to rest.
Come swing with me
Down at the river beneath the trees,
Where birdsong fills the air
And sunbeams dance on your golden hair.
I want to remember this day always
When you and I went down to the glades
And sat upon our wooden swing
And swung up high like a bird on the wing.
Come swing with me!
In the apple orchard beneath the trees,
Where pink and white blossoms
On a summer breeze softly float.
Come swing with me after dark
In the silvery moonlight in the park.
Perhaps we'll steal a kiss or two
When no one's looking at me and you.
Come swing with me after church
In the lea where grows the birch,
Smartly dressed in our sunday best
When everyone else has gone to rest.
Come swing with me
Down at the river beneath the trees,
Where birdsong fills the air
And sunbeams dance on your golden hair.
I want to remember this day always
When you and I went down to the glades
And sat upon our wooden swing
And swung up high like a bird on the wing.
Come swing with me!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2011
About this poem:
Just somthing I wrote from a past memory when I was young and carefree. xx
Stone Ring monorhyme
Majestic stones stood in a ring
while birds flew by on the wing
this once was a place of kings
who spent their time battling
Their foes were now for beheading
this fate was cruel but befitting
a warning for others come warring
with every intention of acquiring
War horses swift of feet cantering
plunging with battle lust capering
the knights so proud are gathering
the stone ring they are honouring
Through the ages cults made offering
changing as they grew up in culturing
yet never the stones change appearing
mystical, powerful capable of conjuring
while birds flew by on the wing
this once was a place of kings
who spent their time battling
Their foes were now for beheading
this fate was cruel but befitting
a warning for others come warring
with every intention of acquiring
War horses swift of feet cantering
plunging with battle lust capering
the knights so proud are gathering
the stone ring they are honouring
Through the ages cults made offering
changing as they grew up in culturing
yet never the stones change appearing
mystical, powerful capable of conjuring
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2013
Post Comment
LOVE LINES # 2
Blessed by angels in the skies
Get the stars in your fair eyes
With your sparkle sadness dies
Let your spirit go up and rise
Love answers where beauty lies.
Let's be happy, let's meet soon
You're not so far as the moon
Life is not an empty room
Two can drive away the gloom
Love can make us high and strong
Feeling good, we can't be wrong.
Get the stars in your fair eyes
With your sparkle sadness dies
Let your spirit go up and rise
Love answers where beauty lies.
Let's be happy, let's meet soon
You're not so far as the moon
Life is not an empty room
Two can drive away the gloom
Love can make us high and strong
Feeling good, we can't be wrong.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2017
About this poem:
Love, love. love. Being in love with love.
online today!Local Politics (Macduff's Just Because Challange)
Who do them folks keep supposin'
Is payin' all them taxes I'm opposin'
Them that spend a whole day long posin'
Talkin' 'till our ears drop and we're a' dozin'
On 'count of all ya local banks a closin'
Now the ol' general stores' fo'closin'
Leave it not fer me fer disclosin'
Ain't nobody else's business I'm a nosin'
Cuz I'm just sayin', I ain't proposin'
"Someone sure is gettin' a hosin'"
Is payin' all them taxes I'm opposin'
Them that spend a whole day long posin'
Talkin' 'till our ears drop and we're a' dozin'
On 'count of all ya local banks a closin'
Now the ol' general stores' fo'closin'
Leave it not fer me fer disclosin'
Ain't nobody else's business I'm a nosin'
Cuz I'm just sayin', I ain't proposin'
"Someone sure is gettin' a hosin'"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2012
About this poem:
Well....placing some folksy diatribe about politics into a most colorful local "Hill Farmer" vernacular requires some skill so that means in order to meet Macduff's challenge and only slight variations of spelling and language that sounds more like the folks back here in the 'stick's would reckon. Hope you enjoy !! :)))BRIGHT DARKNESS by the inimitable ~free cee!~
i don't know about you
but as for me
i do a whole lot of talking to me
while all alone
alone but for the drone of dreary drums
as an aria arises from rows of reverent conundrums
and a symphony of sounds from such sorrow to which sadness succumbs
as my mind stoops over in order to pick up bits of my conscience crumb by crumb
i spend an inordinate amount of my life thinking about my lot in life
a thread, a thimble, a thorn, and a thin slice of tomorrow
a bed, being nimble, a horn and the petulance of sorrow
but what about the seeds as yet un-sewn?
and all of the needs the needy need that as yet remains unknown?
but at last, sans any roots, yet and still i am a tree well grown
grown of grenery and not by any means human bone
and is there a precise measurement for when a pebble becomes a stone
and a stone to a bolder
i mean did anyone ever space the weight between the two and put it in some folder
to be reviewed when he gets a bit older
i suppose, if given a choice i'd opt not to be a boulder but just a little bit bigger than a pebble sized stone
but just becaue i were only a pebble i still need my cell-phone
unless i don't like the boulder's voice and tone
and yes, i am and remain all alone
consecrated by convicts
a pacifist who cares not for conflicts
but right now i'm off to bed
to rid the ridiculous out of my un-quiet head
while beyond the white picket fences
Mrs. Delano sits as Mr. Delano comes up with one of his inane defences
so good night, and i pray the Lord my sanity to take
as Mr. Delano agrees there are too many leaves and tomorrowhe must rake
but if God doesn't rob me of my wits this slumber
and God knows that boulder must have my cell-phone number
then unfortunately when i awake i should be only semi-insane
and to make it perfectly plain
i'd prefer if i were in an instition for the totally insane
they won't even bother taking an M.R.I. of my brain
at least then guiltiness wouldn't be weaving its way into my medula-oblongata
oh, and I asked Jose the gardener if he had any money to pay a debt to me and he said
"nada"
but he commented that his economic status is because his hot wife buys a shit load of products by Prada
and for some reason he asked what was inside my head and the truth was, in my mind was also "nada"
you know.....rubbing me the wrong way ain't right
now damn it........good night
and by the way, if a grub is crawling on a tree but doing it incorrectly wouldn't that mean he was grubbing the tree the wrong way?
see, i can't keep a flood of inane thoughts such as that one at bay
so please, lash out the bright
and just say "good night"
(c) 2011.....~free cee!~
but as for me
i do a whole lot of talking to me
while all alone
alone but for the drone of dreary drums
as an aria arises from rows of reverent conundrums
and a symphony of sounds from such sorrow to which sadness succumbs
as my mind stoops over in order to pick up bits of my conscience crumb by crumb
i spend an inordinate amount of my life thinking about my lot in life
a thread, a thimble, a thorn, and a thin slice of tomorrow
a bed, being nimble, a horn and the petulance of sorrow
but what about the seeds as yet un-sewn?
and all of the needs the needy need that as yet remains unknown?
but at last, sans any roots, yet and still i am a tree well grown
grown of grenery and not by any means human bone
and is there a precise measurement for when a pebble becomes a stone
and a stone to a bolder
i mean did anyone ever space the weight between the two and put it in some folder
to be reviewed when he gets a bit older
i suppose, if given a choice i'd opt not to be a boulder but just a little bit bigger than a pebble sized stone
but just becaue i were only a pebble i still need my cell-phone
unless i don't like the boulder's voice and tone
and yes, i am and remain all alone
consecrated by convicts
a pacifist who cares not for conflicts
but right now i'm off to bed
to rid the ridiculous out of my un-quiet head
while beyond the white picket fences
Mrs. Delano sits as Mr. Delano comes up with one of his inane defences
so good night, and i pray the Lord my sanity to take
as Mr. Delano agrees there are too many leaves and tomorrowhe must rake
but if God doesn't rob me of my wits this slumber
and God knows that boulder must have my cell-phone number
then unfortunately when i awake i should be only semi-insane
and to make it perfectly plain
i'd prefer if i were in an instition for the totally insane
they won't even bother taking an M.R.I. of my brain
at least then guiltiness wouldn't be weaving its way into my medula-oblongata
oh, and I asked Jose the gardener if he had any money to pay a debt to me and he said
"nada"
but he commented that his economic status is because his hot wife buys a shit load of products by Prada
and for some reason he asked what was inside my head and the truth was, in my mind was also "nada"
you know.....rubbing me the wrong way ain't right
now damn it........good night
and by the way, if a grub is crawling on a tree but doing it incorrectly wouldn't that mean he was grubbing the tree the wrong way?
see, i can't keep a flood of inane thoughts such as that one at bay
so please, lash out the bright
and just say "good night"
(c) 2011.....~free cee!~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2011
About this poem:
MARK DAVID CHAPMAN WROTE ME AND INSTRUCTED ME TO WRITE THIS POEMLove
When love is born the world is new,
A bright and glowing dawn.
With singing birds and budding blooms,
A paradise is drawn.
Exploring fingers, tongues and lips,
Bring pleasure with each quest.
Such sweet surprises, lovers bring,
Into their passioned nest.
With passing time the blossom fades,
Familiar scenes repeat.
A knowing, calm complacency,
Replaces passion's heat.
Happiness depends, it seems,
On finding out the way,
Despite all odds and obstacles,
The way to make love stay.
A bright and glowing dawn.
With singing birds and budding blooms,
A paradise is drawn.
Exploring fingers, tongues and lips,
Bring pleasure with each quest.
Such sweet surprises, lovers bring,
Into their passioned nest.
With passing time the blossom fades,
Familiar scenes repeat.
A knowing, calm complacency,
Replaces passion's heat.
Happiness depends, it seems,
On finding out the way,
Despite all odds and obstacles,
The way to make love stay.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2010
About this poem:
The only love poem I've ever written
Gazing from my Windows
Gazing from my Windows
Oressie Simmons
Will society eventually weaken and numb me, blinding my eyes to what I’m actually supposed to see!
From these windows in which I stand I’m able to gain a glance of the meager and as well as the grand.
Although they measure just .09 I’m able to define.
Life!
For it’s not the lavish, beautiful or gangster images I observe or any other adjective selfish self-promoting sounding verb.
By treating others how you want to be treated because by going so evil will always be defeated.
Do ya’’ll think?
So why not embrace the differences in one another because the human race will go heaps further turning my foe into my brother.
For my window represents a lens, enabling me to see great compassion as well as the deplorable sins.
Of society!
My human filters are always in focus allowing me the time to recognize and notices the real from the bogus.
In situations!
Showing me humanities’ bigotry, racism and prejudice from above, my windows give me a perfect view on how people love.
As well as hate.
These windows have been my key, giving me the insight where before I could not see, allowing me to diagnose society as it must be.
So what if I see all the clues and the world still eventually lose, for who can I blame for I have no team in this game and if I lose and the world win it’s still the same, a damn shame yet I’ll be still looking out my windows the same.
Oressie Simmons
Will society eventually weaken and numb me, blinding my eyes to what I’m actually supposed to see!
From these windows in which I stand I’m able to gain a glance of the meager and as well as the grand.
Although they measure just .09 I’m able to define.
Life!
For it’s not the lavish, beautiful or gangster images I observe or any other adjective selfish self-promoting sounding verb.
By treating others how you want to be treated because by going so evil will always be defeated.
Do ya’’ll think?
So why not embrace the differences in one another because the human race will go heaps further turning my foe into my brother.
For my window represents a lens, enabling me to see great compassion as well as the deplorable sins.
Of society!
My human filters are always in focus allowing me the time to recognize and notices the real from the bogus.
In situations!
Showing me humanities’ bigotry, racism and prejudice from above, my windows give me a perfect view on how people love.
As well as hate.
These windows have been my key, giving me the insight where before I could not see, allowing me to diagnose society as it must be.
So what if I see all the clues and the world still eventually lose, for who can I blame for I have no team in this game and if I lose and the world win it’s still the same, a damn shame yet I’ll be still looking out my windows the same.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2014
About this poem:
lifeonline today!High Times
I can smell the wood fires burning
Lighting up the hillside with their smoke
Like so many chimneys on the ridge line
Burning bright hot with seasoned oak
Casting up spires like great castles
Cathedrals with styles most baroque
Warmth is promised in abundance
Whatever your comfort may invoke
We gather round the table for supper
And in great earnest a prayer is spoke
The candles burn throughout the night
Such peaceful purpose they evoke
A mood that burns with a soft glow
Good hearted as our mountain folk
Lighting up the hillside with their smoke
Like so many chimneys on the ridge line
Burning bright hot with seasoned oak
Casting up spires like great castles
Cathedrals with styles most baroque
Warmth is promised in abundance
Whatever your comfort may invoke
We gather round the table for supper
And in great earnest a prayer is spoke
The candles burn throughout the night
Such peaceful purpose they evoke
A mood that burns with a soft glow
Good hearted as our mountain folk
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2018
About this poem:
Late Fall, a church harvest supper, up in the mountains of New England
Sas tries to Rhyme
Intimidated by your beautiful soul
but meet with you I must,
Fearing when your eyes behold me
your love I have to trust,
It's foolish for me to think it
I readily confess,
Your heart, your soul, your body
I yearn so to possess,
So very clear I am unworthy
for claiming such a prize,
So certain it will fulfill me
to gaze into your eyes,
Obsessed, I crave the sensation
when I first touch your skin,
I know you feel soft, like velvet
love glowing from within,
Holding you close within my arms
tightly, safe and secure,
But having to let you go again
I surely can't endure,
My heart grows ever more fearful
time nears for us to meet,
You might be disappointed or
you may become complete,
I just hope our friendship doesn't
suffer from this event,
To bring you joy and happiness
is all I ever meant.
~SAS
but meet with you I must,
Fearing when your eyes behold me
your love I have to trust,
It's foolish for me to think it
I readily confess,
Your heart, your soul, your body
I yearn so to possess,
So very clear I am unworthy
for claiming such a prize,
So certain it will fulfill me
to gaze into your eyes,
Obsessed, I crave the sensation
when I first touch your skin,
I know you feel soft, like velvet
love glowing from within,
Holding you close within my arms
tightly, safe and secure,
But having to let you go again
I surely can't endure,
My heart grows ever more fearful
time nears for us to meet,
You might be disappointed or
you may become complete,
I just hope our friendship doesn't
suffer from this event,
To bring you joy and happiness
is all I ever meant.
~SAS
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2014
About this poem:
Okay I know it's cheesy,But I tried to at least Rhyme LOL
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