Modern / Tomas Gent’s Style Poems
Thomas Gent’ Rhyme
A six lines poem or stanza having a rhyme scheme of abccbb and syllable per line 7–12 . The rhyme scheme seems like one poem of Thomas Gent’s called “To Sarah, While Singing.”
Thomas Gent is an Irish , who had lived from 1693 to 1778, was a printer and writer, born in Ireland, who spent most of his working life in York. The syllables count of his poem is not within 7–12 but to this style the rhyme scheme is only taken to name the style by Aleme Gammo.
Rules of Thomas gent’s poetry
— Rhyme scheme abccbb
— Syllable 7–12 per line.
Tell me freely how many nights
you remained awake for me?
If not shed tears whole night,
how can you think to love in the morning light.
Mind it, loving is not easy, never for free
but if you love it’s great, I hope it be.
When looking at the garden, I could see the bird’s nest
plant a little seed in my garden on the ground
saw the trees are gently growing in my garden
I see the seeds are sprouting in my garden
pray it to grow and look at the sun which is round
I feel happy when I see flowers on my ground
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By Ken Waller,United Kingdom
As I move toward my twilight days
Consider how the world has changed:
How all things have been rearranged,
Technically in so many different ways
Good and Bad ways that do amaze!
There is communication on the Internet
Computers, TV, and your mobile phone
Microchips controlling your happy home
We should feel safer and somehow yet
Was living in Analogue times a better bet?
Before you call me just old luddite
Power everything down one weekend
Relax with your lover, family and friends
Tell me then honestly did it not feel right?
No stress, relaxing in the days warm light.
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By maxine smithers
Rich, smooth, toned and buff he perambulates
ignoring fragrant scent of deep red rose
Across his mind float plans for making gold
Feeding off the poor exploiting the old
Smiling face as his tower of bitcoin grows
His life missing just like the naked emperor’s clothes
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She had a crown and a gown
She married none but promised herself to a ghost
She wasn’t a writer or a painter
She was a maiden who was fainter
She had to eat, at least once a day, one toast
Shame, that the ghost never appeared to wed its host
— — — — — — — — — — — -
Accountability is karmically striven
Either it’s blasé ignored or ignorant of
Scenes of lifetime encounters camera imprints
Preciously handled as they are your soul’s blueprints
Kindness, understanding, love, are standards thereof
An honest to goodness trials fest, labours of love
By Eden Elliott,United States
The height of heavens is not without dimension
Lace draped across the far-out-of-reach sky
Low-hanging creatures glide just above the trees
Earth-grown petals are swept up in the breeze
White mesh is pulled where the gusts choose to fly
And the stoop of the sun leisurely drifts by
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