Minute Poetry

The Minute Poem is a rhyming verse form consisting of 12 lines of 60 syllables written in strict iambic meter. The poem is formatted into 3 stanzas of 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4 syllables. The rhyme scheme is as follows: aabb, ccdd, eeff

So here you are, lost and alone
You’ve turned to stone
You’ve lost your place
You fell from grace

And who can undo what you’ve done?
Where is the sun?
Who calls your name
So wrought with shame?

Come here, my love, sit by my side
I’ll be your guide
I’ll be your voice
Make me your choice

Jumping on that Poetry Bandwagon

Seems like the poetry bug has bitten a lot of people today, so why not? Also, now I’m up to my absolute favorite type of poem in my Poetry Challenge, so I didn’t want to wait to post it.

Kyrielle poems (and Kyrielle sonnets, since they’re practically the same damn thing) are consisted of 4-line stanzas. Each line is 8 syllables written in iambic pentameter with the last line of each stanza repeating. Sonnets are 3 stanzas, and the last couplet is the first line repeated and the last line repeated. Rhyme scheme is either aabB, ccbB, ddbB, etc. or abaB cbcB dbdB, etc.

I like the sonnet form better, simply because, well, just because. I literally have dozens upon dozens of these cluttering up my computer. I’ll save you, the masses, and only post the two most recent ones.

It is a dark and lonely land
Yet here you come to take my hand
Your heart, the place for which I yearn
And to that place I shall return

A dream, as such unknown to me
Of dancing, flying, falling free
This fire inside now starts to burn
And to that place I shall return

A rising sun paints me with dew
And through it all, I’m bathed anew
Towards your dawning light, I turn
And to that place I shall return

It is a dark and lonely land
And to that place I shall return


Two angels down with broken hearts
And searching for the missing parts
And giving all for true love’s sake,
In this, a new kind of awake

We walked through life lost and alone
Our broken hearts turning to stone
Ignoring that horrendous ache
In this, a new kind of awake

But now it seems we have the chance
To break the chains, be free, and dance
Our life is now our own to make
In this, a new kind of awake

Our love was born when Time began
And broke the laws of earth and man
Our love can make the mountains quake
In this, a new kind of awake

Two angels down with broken hearts
In this, a new kind of awake

Yes, I know the last one had 4 stanzas (gasp!). What can I say? I’m a rebel. Got the black leather jacket and everything.


Okay, so by now, you all know that I kinda like challenging myself to write poems following different sets of rules. I really thought I met my match with this one, though. There is a type of poem, invented by fucking Satan himself called a ghazal (even the name sounds evil). The sole purpose of this type of poem is to make grown men sob hysterically and women run screaming into the night.

Seriously. It fucking sucks. A lot.

Here are the rules. A ghazal is made up of an odd-numbered chain of couplets, where each couplet is an independent poem. It has a refrain of 1 to 3 words that repeat and an inline rhyme that precedes each refrain. Lines 1 and 2, and then every second line, has this refrain and inline rhyme. The rhyming scheme is AA bA cA dA eA, etc.

Lying restrained, waiting, in pleading silence
Alone and soaring in soft, ceding silence

Gentle, unseen hands caress battered flesh
Soft moans echo in the bleeding silence

Loving hands guiding tenderly down
Compelled to follow the leading silence

Descending gently from the clouds
Following faithfully, heeding silence

Landing softly in a kind embrace
Safe and warm now, needing silence