If you wish to post a poem, stylistically you must roam

Name the style of poetry previously posted, then post a differently styled one.
The first one is in the title.

Maybe I should have started with a limerick? :smiley:

Couplet.
You gave me water but I wanted beer,
and now I don’t want pizza anymore. Just go,
please leave me here alone. The work is done,
so I’ll sit by myself and write a poem.

I’m no great shakes, I know, but hey, at least
I tried, okay, and hey, it’s not haiku.

Free verse?

I’m not terribly sure, so I’ll wait. If I am correct, I will post my poem.

I think I’m out of my depths, but I’m going to go with Iambic Pentameter.

For ever alone
Unrelenting passion
Chastity should be a choice not a prison
Kisses are at the ready, but she wants a handshake!

I don’t think it is iambic pentameter, since the second line has 12 syllables.

I knew I was out of my depths… I thought the daDum daDum daDum pattern was more important than the actual syllabic count.

Poetry can be confusing
Or its effects can be amusing
Odes and verses, what a chore!
Perhaps I should have studied more

Blank Verse = unrhymed iambic pentameter. the “shakes” was meant as a clue, as it’s what shakespeare wrote in … obviously not a good one …

Oops.

Unrhyming couplet

He wants a poem written in a style;
A style of poetry that we should guess.
The kind of thing that made me run a mile
Enduring school with all my books a mess.
The first example makes me scratch my head.
I’m English, see, and thus it doesn’t scan
We say it with two syllables instead -
Disbelieve? Ask any English man.
And neither does the morpheme rhyme with “roam”
“Is rhyming it impossible?” I cry
My hands stretched up to nature’s perfect dome,
Then see the answer coming from the sky.
Descending borne by shining elohim:
The only rhyme in my accent for “poem”.

Sometimes it takes awhile for the point to get across to me, see, I didn’t know I should give a clue.

Sonnet.
Oliver Perez
Always does what he says
“Pay my huge fee
And I’ll screw up my knee.”

Clerihew.

Higgledy Piggledy
Marian Anderson
Eleanor Roosevelt
Asked to perform

(Unconstitutional
Hall having reckoned her
Coloratura not
Up to the norm).

Double dactyl

A wish. Alone in darkness, seeking touch,
A hand to hold, of which to beg a dance.
This wish, merely momentary, for grace,
For one who might–oh, briefly–pause and dream
Of me. Of my desire for one to love.
But who would love when loving leads to death?

What hope then for me, lonely restless Death?
To wait and pray that one might risk my touch
And stand too close and merely breathe, “My love,”
Then move with me in ageless steps. Our dance,
A waltz of longing. Two who meet in dream
Then waking, part. A memory of grace.

(This is only one-third of the poem; it should be enough to identify the form, though.)

Arithmetic suggests “sestina”. Let me now check if that is right…

Edit: Ok, it seems that it is, so my turn. I’ll need a little time, though.

This poetry business is hard. I wonder how the pros do it. Here you go, at last, though I think I will stick to limericks, clerihews and double-dactyls from now on:

To write a poem, first I need a drink.
Though alcohol may not improve the brain,
I want to spur my feelings, not to think.

To bathe this blank papyrus in blue ink
Seems not too grandiose an end to gain
I vow to gain that end but first, a drink.

To any toast, my glass I’ll gladly clink
Then sip, though fellow toasters may abstain.
I only want to feel, though they may think.

How is my health? Hale, hearty, in the pink
And in the pink I plan to long remain
But let’s be sure. So to my health, a drink

Now to my poem. I am on the brink
Of feelings bursting forth, it feels so plain
What are these feelings, though? What do you think?

While slowly into decadence I sink
Remember why, so I don’t sink in vain.
To write a poem, first I need a drink.
I want to spur my feelings, not to think.