adelli
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| Joined: 13 Aug 2008 |
| Total Posts: 14794 |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:13 PM |
writes a completely original english sonnet with these specifications:
1. proper rhyme scheme 2. proper form (line segmentation into quatrains, couplets, octaves, etc.) 3. at least four feet of syllables per line to prevent easy sonnets 4. also proper number of lines 5. MUST BE COHERENT
(slant rhymes are okay as long as they aren't too awful)
will be judged by siccity |
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Siccity
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| Joined: 21 Jun 2009 |
| Total Posts: 14782 |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:13 PM |
I knew poetry, I would.
termd with 2m+, feelsbad rip god_yato |
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Jason_I
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| Joined: 14 Aug 2015 |
| Total Posts: 15804 |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:14 PM |
well i did terrible in english so im out
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:14 PM |
If I knew*
termd with 2m+, feelsbad rip god_yato |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:14 PM |
| Isolation quickly overwhelms me Begging for forgiveness, a fallen hand Desolation I now begin to see Hanging by a thin thread, a single strand I watch them… Their fears, their misbehaviour Mistreat, abuse…. Completely unaware I am the land, their glorious saviour Someday they will learn to treat me with care I wish they would learn to trust each other To join as one, to stand strong together A ##### a band and a mighty brother Forever as one, a powerful tether You may not know, that fear is their captor So you may not see each special factor HONKAH DONK |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:14 PM |
| My ######### eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; If snow be white, why then her ####### are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my ######## reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My ######## when she walks treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare. ~Add 16557 to postcount |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:14 PM |
All the way out; A Away from all, B Sleeping away, C Tucked in a ball. B No fun at all, B Angry with tears, D Thinking in vain, E Waiting for years. D A place to stay safe,F A place which is still, G Where it’s quiet, H And also quite chill. G Snug as a bear, D In my lone place, I In the Autumn Fall, B Where time is a waste.I
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surenti
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| Joined: 15 Sep 2013 |
| Total Posts: 18624 |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:14 PM |
uhhh idk this oof i wish i did i need this desperately i got scammed n hacked
Prev. Usernames : 775z , Satizfied | Trade link : www.roblox.com/Trade/TradeWindow.aspx?TradePartnerID=48597210 |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:14 PM |
this MIGHT be one but idk
Pink is the color of rosy cheeks, Or the sunset at dawn, It’s very sweet. Pink is the sound of jolly friends, Dancing outside on the gloomy edge. Pink is the smell of a sweet surprise, On a morning day before you rise. Pink feels mild yet cool to the touch, Pink is light, Like balloons have flight. Pink is the feeling of a long break from work. Pink is satisfaction, Sleeping after dark. Pink tastes of sweetness and infinite delight. Pink is also sour and can be a bother. Pink is the idea of a miracle, Or the unluckiest day, Pink is inside your sister’s room, Pink is where the flowers bloom.
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:15 PM |
I teach eighth graders in an urban middle school, and so had my own students in mind when creating this unit. However, most of what is presented is appropriate for other middle school grades as well as for high school. I teach both an eighth grade regular Communications class (our terminology for language arts) and an eighth grade Creative Writing class. In addition, I plan to start an after school poetry club next year. This unit is appropriate for all three situations. Because my eighth graders have responded so positively to poetry study in the past, and because I believe that the study of poetry provides a strong foundation for the study of other literary forms, I hope to find time for poetry study each week during the school year. This unit will be a part of the year long emphasis on poetry. The unit itself should cover seven one hour class periods, but teachers will find many ways to extend or limit its scope.
https://www.roblox.com/Trade/TradeWindow.aspx?TradePartnerID=7082576 |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:15 PM |
| Why is my verse so barren of new pride, So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted ##### That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth, and where they did proceed? O know sweet love I always write of you, And you and love are still my argument; So all my best is dressing old words new, Spending again what is already spent: For as the sun is daily new and old, So is my love still telling what is told. |
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Rionic
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| Joined: 30 Jan 2010 |
| Total Posts: 33029 |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:15 PM |
| # #### # #### ### #### ##### fish Snazzy! |
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Bayekk
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| Joined: 28 Mar 2011 |
| Total Posts: 12401 |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:15 PM |
When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights, Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express’d Even such a beauty as you master now. So all their praises are but prophecies Of this our time, all you prefiguring; And, for they look’d but with divining eyes, They had not skill enough your worth to sing: For we, which now behold these present days, Had eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:15 PM |
wrote these in grade school and dumped them here lel
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Rionic
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| Joined: 30 Jan 2010 |
| Total Posts: 33029 |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:15 PM |
when ur a+ sonnet gets tagged
Snazzy! |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:15 PM |
| My ######### eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; If snow be white, why then her ####### are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my ######## reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My ######## when she walks treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare. WOOO ~Add 16557 to postcount |
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Siccity
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| Joined: 21 Jun 2009 |
| Total Posts: 14782 |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:15 PM |
excuse me completely original sonnets only thanks
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:15 PM |
i was first yay
HONKAH DONK |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:15 PM |
"writes a completely original english sonnet"
emphasis on completely original
im cool okay |
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Bayekk
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| Joined: 28 Mar 2011 |
| Total Posts: 12401 |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:16 PM |
In merest scrap of ocean, greenish, dim, the creature drifts, transparent, like some ghost; through wall of glass the human spirit, lost to itself, takes the enormous wonder in,
how, flimsy with translucence, the small soul that burns within each organ without trace, now makes the slight wing, fine as woven lace, of the alien glass bird beat with wavelike roll.
So drifts my verse in me, a part of God; and something that both rhyme and reason mocks hides in ingenious translucency;
and he who reads this, for one moment, feels quivering, beyond his I’s constraining shield, the mystery of his eternity. |
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J_mper
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| Joined: 01 Oct 2006 |
| Total Posts: 949 |
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| 23 Jun 2017 11:16 PM |
In true plain words, by thy true-telling friend; When my love swears that she is made of truth, Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
Came there for cure and this by that I prove, That followed it as gentle day, That beauty still may live in thine or thee. And every humor hath his adjunct pleasure,
My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, A man in hue all hues in his controlling, Thus policy in love, to anticipate Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
When all the breathers of this world are dead; And yet methinks I have Astronomy,
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