Rhyme Quotes

Chance is your godThough you're falling free you will land hard

Auden is an accomplished rhymer and Shakespeare is not.

Lords of space and Lords of time,Lords of blessing, Lords of grace,Who is in the warmer clime?Who will follow Madoc's rhyme?Blue will alter time and space.

Madeleine L'Engle

I, Larry Vail, do hereby confessTo murdering Merry in her little dress.To strangling and raping and making a mess.To all of these charges the answer is yes.

Rosalyn Drexler

Is the phrase 'pay' or 'play the piper'I inquire, why'Cause I admire a desire to flip the switchYeah make a way to face the music likeLife savings for a mosh pit riotListen to a mixRock the tickets, higher volumeVelocity which shakes a cockpit's pilot

Before he got too far, he thought he smelled a fire.No sooner did he blink before he sensed something dire.He heard a sound and froze, danger tickling his nose.His ears perked up as tiny cries of capture rose.

Wherever you go in the next catastrophéBe it sickroom, or prison, or cemet’ryDo not fear that your stay will besolit’ryCountless souls share your fate,you’ll have company!

It is not until you rhyme with a person that makes you their perfect match, it is when you are satisfied with each others peculiarities, and find jewels in their loopholes.

Michael Bassey Johnson

Sealing your lips makes your eyes talk Truth creeps beneath your lame feet’s walk Knees stiffen when blood vessels stalk A pounding heart’s lies hard as rock

A poetess is not as selfishas you assume.After months of agonising over her marriage of words—the bride—and spaces—the groom,she knows that as soonas she has penned the poem,it’s yours to consume.So, without giving it a think,she blows on the inkand the letters fly awaylike dandelions on a windy day,landing on hands and lips, on hearts and hips.But more often than not,you can easily spotthem trodden and forgotten,becoming sodden and rotten.Yet, she will continue to makewhat’s others to takebecause selfishness is not the mark of a poetess.

From attraction and affectionCover of perfectionFailure beyond texture to a painful lessonEverything that was from the start wasn't from the heart

Poetry isn’t an island, it is the bridge. Poetry isn’t a ship, it is the lifeboat. Poetry isn’t swimming. Poetry is water.

Jagged needle, wicked liesFrom under the skin, pluck evil eyes.Destiny change from pain and coldNow that you pay in blood and soul.

One little Indian left all alone, he went out and hanged himself and then there were none.

Agatha Christie

Anger's like a battery that leaks acid right out of meAnd it starts from the heart 'til it reaches my outer me