A Monorhyme is a poem in which all the lines have the same end rhyme. Here is a list of Last 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.
A Christmas Snow------monorhyme
A Christmas Snow
The soft snow flakes fall gently coating
the land, which to white is turning.
Trees brushed white stand gleaming
as Christmas dawns with sunlight bursting.
A hush settles as people start stirring
emotions high, children in the snow delighting.
Soft and pristine white as the wind sets it flurrying
its touch a whisper as it brushes cheeks now settling.
Magical flakes of pure white glistening and sparkling,
while icicles translucent adorn trees decorating
their branches and trunks with colour reflecting.
The people filled with awe as Jesus they are welcoming.
11/25/2014
contest: A Christmas Snow
The soft snow flakes fall gently coating
the land, which to white is turning.
Trees brushed white stand gleaming
as Christmas dawns with sunlight bursting.
A hush settles as people start stirring
emotions high, children in the snow delighting.
Soft and pristine white as the wind sets it flurrying
its touch a whisper as it brushes cheeks now settling.
Magical flakes of pure white glistening and sparkling,
while icicles translucent adorn trees decorating
their branches and trunks with colour reflecting.
The people filled with awe as Jesus they are welcoming.
11/25/2014
contest: A Christmas Snow
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2014
Post Comment
THEY NEVER GOT OLD ENOUGH TO LEAVE THEIR MARK
TWENTY FRIENDS, TWENTY HEADSTONES, NOW ETCHED BY THE WIND AND COLD
TWENTY FRIENDS WHO FELL TO A LIE THEY ALL AND EACH WERE TOLD
ALL ASSIGNED THE ASSURANCE AND WERE ASSUAGED THAT POWDER
WOULD NEVER OVERPOWER
TWENTY FRIENDS WHO SO LONG AGO MET A MOST UN-FORTUITOUS HOUR
TWENTY FOUND IN EARTHEN BROWN'S ABODE IS NOW THEIR BED
TWENTY HEADSTONES RECOLLECTED WELL WITHIN MY HEAD
TWENTY HEADSTONES ERECTED WITHIN A MOST MAUDLIN YARD
TWENTY FRIENDS FOR WHOM DEATH HAD TREATED WITH A DISCONCERTING DISREGARD
AND THROUGH THAT YARD A BREEZE OF "NEVER-WOULD-BE's" COMETH THEN TO BLOW
WHEN DOPE BEGOT MISERY FOR TWENTY
TWENTY FOR TWENTY
TWENTY YEARS AGO
(C) 2011....
TWENTY FRIENDS WHO FELL TO A LIE THEY ALL AND EACH WERE TOLD
ALL ASSIGNED THE ASSURANCE AND WERE ASSUAGED THAT POWDER
WOULD NEVER OVERPOWER
TWENTY FRIENDS WHO SO LONG AGO MET A MOST UN-FORTUITOUS HOUR
TWENTY FOUND IN EARTHEN BROWN'S ABODE IS NOW THEIR BED
TWENTY HEADSTONES RECOLLECTED WELL WITHIN MY HEAD
TWENTY HEADSTONES ERECTED WITHIN A MOST MAUDLIN YARD
TWENTY FRIENDS FOR WHOM DEATH HAD TREATED WITH A DISCONCERTING DISREGARD
AND THROUGH THAT YARD A BREEZE OF "NEVER-WOULD-BE's" COMETH THEN TO BLOW
WHEN DOPE BEGOT MISERY FOR TWENTY
TWENTY FOR TWENTY
TWENTY YEARS AGO
(C) 2011....
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Feb 2011
About this poem:
~free cee~! and how much would you wager that if we met and spent one half hour together you'd swear you just came upon the most intelligent gentleman you have or ever will be likely to see again,then i arise and walk away with you swearing you met a genius in the flesh....i come back and give me another half-hour and you'll walk away thinking you just encountered the dumbest man on earth? AND I NEED ANY MORE SHRIMP ON YOUR MISUNDERSTANDING BARBIE!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 POEMBonfire And MoonLight
May 9, 2010
Drawn deep into the heart of the woodland...
a haunting melody stirs the calm night.
Drums pound till I can’t resist their calling.
Silhouettes blend by bonfire and moonlight.
She is but one dancing in the circle...
hands moving as if swimming thru stars.
Many faces shine in the fire’s glow...
figures adorned with veils and flowers.
Glistening bodies, mesmerized, chanting...
praising the earth for her bounty and seed.
May Pole ribbons again weave their magic.
The fields are blessed, as are those they will feed.
One green ribbon I add to the weaving;
my silent watch, then my whispered prayer.
“Great Mother Earth, I’ve abused thy blessings.
Forgive me the times I wasn’t aware."
The drums have awakened my sleeping heart.
I feel you inside me...your voice I hear.
Goddess Mother...blessed be...our Mother;
by the light of the moon, all is made clear.
By the moon’s light...all is clear.”
I join the circle of celebration.
I am one with the drums, long thru the night.
I am but one dancing in the circle;
silhouettes blend by bonfire and moonlight.
All is made clear in the moon’s light...
Drawn deep into the heart of the woodland...
a haunting melody stirs the calm night.
Drums pound till I can’t resist their calling.
Silhouettes blend by bonfire and moonlight.
She is but one dancing in the circle...
hands moving as if swimming thru stars.
Many faces shine in the fire’s glow...
figures adorned with veils and flowers.
Glistening bodies, mesmerized, chanting...
praising the earth for her bounty and seed.
May Pole ribbons again weave their magic.
The fields are blessed, as are those they will feed.
One green ribbon I add to the weaving;
my silent watch, then my whispered prayer.
“Great Mother Earth, I’ve abused thy blessings.
Forgive me the times I wasn’t aware."
The drums have awakened my sleeping heart.
I feel you inside me...your voice I hear.
Goddess Mother...blessed be...our Mother;
by the light of the moon, all is made clear.
By the moon’s light...all is clear.”
I join the circle of celebration.
I am one with the drums, long thru the night.
I am but one dancing in the circle;
silhouettes blend by bonfire and moonlight.
All is made clear in the moon’s light...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2014
About this poem:
Inspired by Beltane a while back. Fitting to share before May is gone. Blessed be, all those who move with the dance of life.
What is Man? (an original poem from a book of Inspiration that I published in 2016)
What is MAN?
The image and likeness of God,
A servant of Jesus the Lord,
The evidence of His word.
What is Man?
Nothing but ashes and dust,
Nothing but malice and lust,
Nothing that any should trust.
What is MAN?
Nothing but woeful and vain,
Nothing is he, but inane,
Nothing does he, but complain.
What is MAN?
Nothing of value from birth,
Nothing of any great worth,
Nothing but scourge of the earth.
What is MAN?
Nothing but lost and alone,
Nothing for sin, can atone,
Nothing but dead in his own
Sin.
What is MAN?
NOTHING.
Nothing at all, without Jesus.
The image and likeness of God,
A servant of Jesus the Lord,
The evidence of His word.
What is Man?
Nothing but ashes and dust,
Nothing but malice and lust,
Nothing that any should trust.
What is MAN?
Nothing but woeful and vain,
Nothing is he, but inane,
Nothing does he, but complain.
What is MAN?
Nothing of value from birth,
Nothing of any great worth,
Nothing but scourge of the earth.
What is MAN?
Nothing but lost and alone,
Nothing for sin, can atone,
Nothing but dead in his own
Sin.
What is MAN?
NOTHING.
Nothing at all, without Jesus.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2022
About this poem:
“What is man, that you should magnify him, that you should set your mind on him, that you should visit him every morning, and test him every moment?”(Job 7:17 & 18)
Coworkers
You freak me out!
You have no idea how hard it is to be around you
You told me how you punched your boyfriend in the face
Another girl talks gossip nonstop
This guy is taking weed and hails from Chicago
This other guy look like he just entered this country illegally
Why do you have a purple mowhawk?
You have tattoos all over your arms
What do they all mean?
I'm afraid to ask
I'm afraid you'll yell at me
I can't think
I can't breathe
I'm shell shocked
When will this work shift end so I can be away from all of you
Where I can be at peace
Where I can be safe
Some are nice
But they leave too soon
They are too few
I wish I didn't feel this way
I really do
But here I stand
Waiting for the bell to ring
It is 3:00 P.M.
Yeah!
You have no idea how hard it is to be around you
You told me how you punched your boyfriend in the face
Another girl talks gossip nonstop
This guy is taking weed and hails from Chicago
This other guy look like he just entered this country illegally
Why do you have a purple mowhawk?
You have tattoos all over your arms
What do they all mean?
I'm afraid to ask
I'm afraid you'll yell at me
I can't think
I can't breathe
I'm shell shocked
When will this work shift end so I can be away from all of you
Where I can be at peace
Where I can be safe
Some are nice
But they leave too soon
They are too few
I wish I didn't feel this way
I really do
But here I stand
Waiting for the bell to ring
It is 3:00 P.M.
Yeah!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2014
About this poem:
Just ragging about my job, but it could be any of the jobs I have had. Social interaction has always been a real crapper for me. I was asked what I liked best about my job. I answered the ride home.
What I've Done
In his last desperation,
Before he takes his life,
How broad his life was,
How narrow became his mind,-
"Tomorrow can bring a new day!",
"If tomorrow ever comes,"
"Everyday is the same thing,"
What has he done?-
In his self-isolation,
Refusing to feel any pain,
"Time for you to grow up,"
That is what she once said,-
He picked up his guitar,
Carefully placed it in the case,
At the young age of 41,
"Too old for childish games,"-
Yesterday and depression,
Between both, there he stands,
A price for him to go by,
The cost of being a man,-
"Killing myself to provide,"
"I know this can't go on,"
Was the last words he spoke to me,
What has he done?
What have I done?
What I've done--
Before he takes his life,
How broad his life was,
How narrow became his mind,-
"Tomorrow can bring a new day!",
"If tomorrow ever comes,"
"Everyday is the same thing,"
What has he done?-
In his self-isolation,
Refusing to feel any pain,
"Time for you to grow up,"
That is what she once said,-
He picked up his guitar,
Carefully placed it in the case,
At the young age of 41,
"Too old for childish games,"-
Yesterday and depression,
Between both, there he stands,
A price for him to go by,
The cost of being a man,-
"Killing myself to provide,"
"I know this can't go on,"
Was the last words he spoke to me,
What has he done?
What have I done?
What I've done--
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2022
About this poem:
I wrote this one 4-19-2011 just by basically finger picking at some chords on the guitar, then I started writing and rearranging the sound.
Silence Molds the Clouds All day
Silent shadows
running thru the fields,
Silence molds the clouds
all-day
Silent moonlight
bounces thru the trees,
Silence two-steps across
the lake
Yet
when my heart
is with you
its shield breaks
oh Lord
how it breaks
in the most tender way.
Silent snowflake
falling like a ghost
Silence swings low thru
the gate
Silent stones
gather no thoughts,
Silence gives my heart
away.
running thru the fields,
Silence molds the clouds
all-day
Silent moonlight
bounces thru the trees,
Silence two-steps across
the lake
Yet
when my heart
is with you
its shield breaks
oh Lord
how it breaks
in the most tender way.
Silent snowflake
falling like a ghost
Silence swings low thru
the gate
Silent stones
gather no thoughts,
Silence gives my heart
away.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2022
About this poem:
inspired by Beatle's: - Julia -Julia,
sleeping sand,
silent cloud,
Touch me,
So I sing a song of love,
Julia
PLACES TO BE - Amsterdam
Amsterdam, enthralling
With those canals curling
Concentric art displays
Streets follow the waterways.
Softly, curiosity arouses
Pretty, slim narrow houses
Leaning homes, close together
Are stronger, holding each other
Like saying "unity is power"!
With those canals curling
Concentric art displays
Streets follow the waterways.
Softly, curiosity arouses
Pretty, slim narrow houses
Leaning homes, close together
Are stronger, holding each other
Like saying "unity is power"!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2022
About this poem:
Amsterdam is fascinating!
Loving without Owning
I think of you tonight,
I wanna see you alright
Will you come close to me
I wanna see those eyes free
Let me touch your hair
Let me kiss you right there
In me i know i love you,
And I know you don't know
Things go slow when you're around
And i want you here and bond
Its crazy how much i want you baby
It hurt so deep i cant get away
I'll be here watching
Your smile is everlasting
Enough to know your there
Even if i know we cant be as a pair
I wanna see you alright
Will you come close to me
I wanna see those eyes free
Let me touch your hair
Let me kiss you right there
In me i know i love you,
And I know you don't know
Things go slow when you're around
And i want you here and bond
Its crazy how much i want you baby
It hurt so deep i cant get away
I'll be here watching
Your smile is everlasting
Enough to know your there
Even if i know we cant be as a pair
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2019
About this poem:
Not all true love end up together. And simply the pain heals by just keep loving him.Poems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2024. All rights reserved.
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