Bouts Râmes

I cannot play a single bar,
One anything even a guitar!
FOr this reason I took the plume,
From an arrogant man who created a nasty fume.
So what I write is a bunch of tripe
And his wind was almost as ripe!
From what I credo,
You ought to send me a torpedo!

Really, I just stink at this!

A strange set of rhymes. My response is posted here

I tried to stay with iambic pentameter but "credo/torpedo" I had to resort to some troche!

Like dancers stretching at the bar
Minds pliant as a peacock plume
Plucking strings of cerebral guitar
We compose repartees as they fume.

Pontificating purveyors of tripe
Relentlessly spew out their credo
When the rhythm and lyrics are ripe
We enlighten their ark by torpedo.

p.s. whoever came up with these rhyming words should be "shot"...lol...I really am a pacifist, so hence the "..."'s
dcp

Well since everyone else is posting their rhymes here, I guess I will too. (And you should too Joel!)

The rakish mistrel strolled into the bar
in purple tights and hat with peacock plume.
And slung across his back was his guitar.
The patrons stared and they began to fume.

Is this man gay? they asked, and other tripe.
Conformity, Macho was their credo!
The minstrel smiled. He knew the time was ripe.
It was no guitar, but a torpedo!

I'll post mine here also, though it's on my site as well.

"I believe the time has come," he said, "To bar
the most foulest of feathers, the disguesting plume,
from the ends of our pens," I strumed my guitar
at this poetry reading, amazed at the things that make a man fume.

Soon it was my turn, and I began my own tripe,
Vocalizing the hidden reasons behind the credo
that as soon as a pear, an apple or guava is ripe,
It should be hurled at passersby, like a fructose torpedo.

Vic: I did my trackback. That suffices.

I will not play Rick James' guitar,
Nor inhale his cigarrette's fume.
I will not drink at his crowded bar,
Or bother to touch that funky plume

Nested in his cowboy hat. "Ripe
Decorum" suggests a handy credo
to these pop temptations, a honeycomb tripe.
Still, James' music is the best beat torpedo.

Pop culture is my muse, and poetic stresses are my bane. I sincerely hope I do better next time

I wanted to pass the bar;
She wanted to buy a plume.
I wanted to play guitar,
But all she could do was fume.

I wanted to try eating tripe,
But it was against her credo –
I found it was over ripe;
And so we enjoyed a torpedo.

I first met you in a smoky bar
First saw you in a hat with a plume
First I heard of you was your guitar
You said you had a tendency to fume

It seems everything I write is tripe
And I live by my own credo
It seems that now the time is ripe
to say "Damn the torpedo!"

Oh my! This is just soooo bad, especially the end. The crazy part is that everything I wrote in the poem is true in my life now!

Penny up to the bar
Gilded with the plume
Of a weathered guitar.
Whilst those amongst us fume,

Caught within the tripe
Angst of the credo:
‘The moment is ripe-
Send in the torpedo!’

She sat down on the stool that sat down at the bar,
Her Virginia Lite cig trailing smoke in a plume.
A grim grin streaked her face at the sound of guitar,
Her Dashboard-like ex had jumped to vocally fume.

So she'd broken his heart - a pile of tripe-
She'd never been one to claim womanly credo
And stick with a man who swung when his anger was ripe,
And bare her keen face to a fist made torpedo.

I wondered what the hell these "blogs" are,
and since I was stuck in my room
I decided to web-surf afar
and rattle the bones in my tomb.

I waded through mountains of hype,
web drugstores and swimsuits by Speedo,
I just bought a huge water pipe
and a bunch of blue pills that are neato.

Everybody else used the example words, but I wasn't sure that was the way we were supposed to do this. Hmmmm. Let me know how it goes, eh?

Joe, no, you are supposed to use the words -- they are not "examples" but requirements.

so, I got one in under the bar,
wrote a second line ending in "plume",
used a non-sequitur word like "guitar",
and by now I'm beginning to fume.

using these words make all attempts tripe,
when poetry should be our credo.
It makes our verse seem over-ripe
when we're forced to use words like "torpedo".

Yeah, I see your point. Much better now.

Never said that the end product wouldn't be absurd. :)

But that's part of the joy of the game.

I sit after work in a bar,
Wish I could tease my cat with a plume.
But I'm forced to hear lousy guitar,
And get choked by a cigarette fume.
Oh, the songs they play here are such tripe,
And I cannot agree with their credo.
Let me go where the peaches are ripe,
Play with something shaped like a torpedo.

In the Yukon there is a nice bar,
On the banks of the river Bonnet Plume
There's live music with acoustic guitar
But the menu can cause you to fume

I had dinner of smoked bacon and tripe
After, a port and cigar, per my credo
Vintage port with a bouquet of fruit (ripe)
And a Tabacalera Esteli torpedo

"Dance Of The Suitors"

Just another night at the bar

filled with cowboy hats and plume

watched a girl dance as I strummed my guitar

watched her turn around and fume

see I knew her when she was ripe

treated her proper as was my credo

later treated her like moldy tripe

cause i'd already hit her with the torpedo

cause Immmmmm scummmmm, old redneck scum

Scummmmmmmmm, but i got lots so'm not dumb

"---Flies"

In hopes of lifting the proverbial bar
To gaze through the preconceived veils and fume
Clad in a corduroy vest, with guitar
Laden with sound, songs billow in elegant plume
A primitive melody, yet lasting credo
Fresh to the untrained ear, clean and ripe
A harrowing call strikes the walls like a torpedo
More reason to banish the usual tripe.

got this first one posted. on to work on the sonnet now :)