#formal verse

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Opinion: 'Rhymes' by Zach Weinersmith

John Milton was perfectly capable of expressing himself in rhyme, as in his Petrarchan sonnet on his blindness, When I Consider How My Light Is Spent. Paradise Lost attracted a lot of criticism for its boring lack of rhyme (as well as a lot of unthinking religious approval for its wretched matter). At the front of the second edition of his Paradise Lost in 1674, John Milton defends his books-long…

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Odd poem: 'Changsha' by Mao Zedong

Odd poem: ‘Changsha’ by Mao Zedong

Alone I stand in the autumn cold On the tip of Orange Island, The Xiang flowing northward; I see a thousand hills crimsoned through By their serried woods deep-dyed, And a hundred barges vying Over crystal blue waters. Eagles cleave the air, Fish glide under the shallow water; Under freezing skies a million creatures contend in freedom. Brooding over this immensity, I ask, on this bondless land…

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Call for Submissions: 'Extreme Formal Poems II', ed. Beth Houston

From Beth Houston: “I’m writing to let you know that I’ve changed the latest Rhizome Press anthology I’m currently reading for from Extreme Sonnets and Villanelles to Extreme Formal Poems II, and I’ve extended the submission deadline to January 15, 2027. I’m making the change to give more poets the opportunity to be included (by request) and to give me a chance to get the word out. I’ve been…

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J.E. Flecker, 'The Golden Journey to Samarkand. Prologue'

We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, We Poets of the proud old lineage Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why,– What shall we tell you? Tales, marvellous tales Of ships and stars and isles where good men rest, Where nevermore the rose of sunset pales, And winds and shadows fall toward the West: And there the world’s first huge…

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Ed Shacklee, 'So We Beat Them'

One limped a little, and another had a stammer, one was cross-eyed, swarthy, and employed atrocious grammar; so we beat them with a pipe, and then a club, and then a plier, bending them like pretzels after binding them with wire, sending trite condolences with tappings of a hammer. One was far too clever, another drolly thick, one was hyper, one disfigured by a nervous tic; so we beat them with a…

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Daniel Brown, 'Lovely Ones'

On some it will have not been lost That lovely ones the world over Expound, as part of their palaver, On beauty’s costs—to take the most Familiar, that they fear it’s never Any but their outer traitsThat captivate (a fear with cause)—And yet consistently refuseTo speak of beauty’s benefits.Perhaps because they’d sooner lose Their loveliness, this company,Than stand before the world and nameThe…

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Using form: dactyls: Max Gutmann, 'Junípero Serra'

Critics of Father Junípero Serra Maintain that the priest was a murderous churl, Killing American natives religiously. (“Serra,” too, sounds like the name of a girl.) Minor official in Spain’s Inquisition, he Saw many heretics tortured and burned. Some people frowned on such zealous conversion modes. Serra took copious notes. And he learned. Later, his ministry in the Americas Opened a chain of…

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Using form: Gwendolyn Brooks, 'We Real Cool'

The Pool Players.Seven at the Golden Shovel.We real cool. We Left school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz June. We Die soon. ***** Gwendolyn Brooks was one of the greatest 20th century American poets: stylistically creative, with haunting imagery and themes, emotionally engaging, socially engaged. She wrote formal verse, free verse and loosely structured…

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