Poetry in Rhyme

U s i n g W o r d s t h a t C r e a t e I m a g e s a n d i d e a s

t h r o u g h t h e u s e o f r e p e a t i n g l i n e s o f r h y m e

Quatern

A Quatern is a sixteen line French form composed of four quatrains. It has a refrain that is in a different place in each quatrain. The first line of stanza one is the second line of stanza two, third line of stanza three, and fouth line of stanza four. A quatern has eight syllables per line.

A Withered Leaf

A withered leaf falls to the ground. (A)In contemplation I'm aware (B)that much of history will astound (A)us when we realise what we share. (B)

I look at sights that seem the same, (C)a withered leaf falls to the ground. (A)Ancestral souls that share our name (C)resurface. In our traits they're found. (A)

A glance, a look can be renowned (A)as features of our family line. (D)A withered leaf falls to the ground (A)and I relate because it's mine. (D)

As part of one big family tree (E)we share our roots. They're tightly bound. (A)When new life grows from you and me (E)a withered leaf falls to the ground. (A)

VillanelleA 19-line poem consisting of five tercets and a final quatrain on two rhymes. The first and third lines of the first tercet repeat alternately as a refrain closing the succeeding stanzas and joined as the final couplet of the quatrain.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night,

Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night,

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.Do not go gentle into that good night,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.