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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

What poetry form are you?


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I'm not sure if this little quiz has surfaced at The Pen before, but I thought it might be fun to check out which type of poem your personality (or your character's personality) lends itself to.

 

For those who'd like an extra challenge - your mission is to compose a poem in your designated form. :woot:

 

Scarlett's poetic form was: *drumroll*

 

Ottava rima? Me? That can't be right!

 Too frivolous? But tut, there's no such thing!

Let others ponder thoughts of wrong and right,

 Or sit and think how much they love the spring;

I'd rather spend my time in gleeful spite,

 Or maybe laugh, or maybe sit and sing.

Besides, it might be fun to be inspiring -

But surely it would get so very tiring.

What Poetry Form Are You?

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Hehe, that was great! Apparently, this is me:

 

I am the sonnet, never quickly thrilled;

Not prone to overstated gushing praise

Nor yet to seething rants and anger, filled

With overstretched opinions to rephrase;

But on the other hand, not fond of fools,

And thus, not fond of people, on the whole;

And holding to the sound and useful rules,

Not those that seek unjustified control.

I'm balanced, measured, sensible (at least,

I think I am, and usually I'm right);

And when more ostentatious types have ceased,

I'm still around, and doing, still, alright.

In short, I'm calm and rational and stable -

Or, well, I am, as much as I am able.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

I hope that I one day can write a sonnet :)

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Hrm, I better be a haiku, or someone's in trouble. :P

 

I am, of course, none other than blank verse.

I don't know where I'm going, yes, quite right;

And when I get there (if I ever do)

I might not recognise it. So? Your point?

Why should I have a destination set?

I'm relatively happy as I am,

And wouldn't want to be forever aimed

Towards some future path or special goal.

It's not to do with laziness, as such.

It's just that one the whole I'd rather not

Be bothered - so I drift contentedly;

An underrated way of life, I find.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

 

 

Curses! ...but I think... that...fits...?

 

Eh, yeah, actually, that hits right on the button ^.^

Edited by The Big Pointy One
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hrm... and I was aiming for sonnet too..... nawwwwwww

 

If they told you I'm mad, then they lied.

I'm odd, but it isn't compulsive.

I'm the triolet, bursting with pride;

If they told you I'm mad, then they lied.

No, it isn't obsessive. Now hide

All the spoons or I might get convulsive.

If they told you I'm mad then they lied.

I'm odd, but it isn't compulsive.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

 

they liiiiieeeeeeeeeed I tell you. LIED!

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Truth to tell, this doesn't sound much like me at all. I rather prefered the alternative it gave me, a lai.

 

Does anyone else find it interesting that we've had no repeat types in the thread thus far?

 

I'm terza rima, and I talk and smile.

Where others lock their rhymes and thoughts away

I let mine out, and chatter all the while.

 

I'm rarely on my own - a wasted day

Is any day that's spent without a friend,

With nothing much to do or hear or say.

 

I like to be with people, and depend

On company for being entertained;

Which seems a good solution, in the end.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

~Yui

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Huh. Like the form, not the poem they used to describe it. Ah well. Triolet was my alternate.

 

PS - Yui, yes... it's very strange. Just goes to show the uh... uniqueness of the Pen I guess. :)

 

Short, terse, unfriendly,

Yet sometimes quite emotive;

I am the Haiku.

What Poetry Form Are You?

Edited by Justin Silverblade
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Excellent quiz, some very original questions on there... My poetry form is supposedly:

 

I am the sonnet, never quickly thrilled;

Not prone to overstated gushing praise

Nor yet to seething rants and anger, filled

With overstretched opinions to rephrase;

But on the other hand, not fond of fools,

And thus, not fond of people, on the whole;

And holding to the sound and useful rules,

Not those that seek unjustified control.

I'm balanced, measured, sensible (at least,

I think I am, and usually I'm right);

And when more ostentatious types have ceased,

I'm still around, and doing, still, alright.

In short, I'm calm and rational and stable -

Or, well, I am, as much as I am able.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

Drat... Oh well... I suppose a repetition was bound to spring up sooner or later...

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I'm terza rima, and I talk and smile.

Where others lock their rhymes and thoughts away

I let mine out, and chatter all the while.

 

I'm rarely on my own - a wasted day

Is any day that's spent without a friend,

With nothing much to do or hear or say.

 

I like to be with people, and depend

On company for being entertained;

Which seems a good solution, in the end.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

Who'da thunk it.

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It was either that

 

If they told you I'm mad, then they lied.

I'm odd, but it isn't compulsive.

I'm the triolet, bursting with pride;

If they told you I'm mad, then they lied.

No, it isn't obsessive. Now hide

All the spoons or I might get convulsive.

If they told you I'm mad then they lied.

I'm odd, but it isn't compulsive.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

Or that

 

I am heroic couplets; most precise

And fond of order. Planned and structured. Nice.

I know, of course, just what I want; I know,

As well, what I will do to make it so.

This doesn't mean that I attempt to shun

Excitement, entertainment, pleasure, fun;

But they must keep their place, like all the rest;

They might be good, but ordered life is best.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

I'm nothing like the heroic couplets...

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Ottava rima? Me? That can't be right!

   Too frivolous? But tut, there's no such thing!

Let others ponder thoughts of wrong and right,

   Or sit and think how much they love the spring;

I'd rather spend my time in gleeful spite,

   Or maybe laugh, or maybe sit and sing.

Besides, it might be fun to be inspiring -

But surely it would get so very tiring.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

Or my alternate, which seems to fit me at the moment (finals and all...)

 

I know I should be telling you that I'm

A rubai - but perhaps some other time.

It sounds like work, and anyway, it's late -

Unless I sleep, I'll be too tired to rhyme.

 

Besides, there's plates to clear and cups to clink,

And when that's done I have to sit and think,

Since then it won't be long before I need

To sleep again and eat again and drink.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

The first rubai, I feel special...

Edited by Kasmandre
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I am the descort, and thwart, and long

for discordant, mordant chaos;

See the pretty dissolution,

See the ditty pattern briefly then

Dissolve away

Into a

Newer

Mode of messy disagreeable

(but me-able)

Affray, with lovely spite and hating,

Fights and hurting,

Never abating.

(Quite contrary me.)

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

OR

 

I am free verse,

and know the rules,

and use them -

when they suit me,

which admittedly

tends not to be the case.

Authority,

tradition, laws;

very much not

my sort

of thing,

I fear.

Perhaps, on occasion,

I go too far in the opposite direction,

and shun the accepted merely because it's accepted,

accepting its opposite merely because it isn't;

but since it's clearly

better that than

being normal;

well,

why

not?

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

 

Free Verse seems to match me..

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I'm terza rima, and I talk and smile.

Where others lock their rhymes and thoughts away

I let mine out, and chatter all the while.

 

I'm rarely on my own - a wasted day

Is any day that's spent without a friend,

With nothing much to do or hear or say.

 

I like to be with people, and depend

On company for being entertained;

Which seems a good solution, in the end.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

or i am

 

 

I am heroic couplets; most precise

And fond of order. Planned and structured. Nice.

I know, of course, just what I want; I know,

As well, what I will do to make it so.

This doesn't mean that I attempt to shun

Excitement, entertainment, pleasure, fun;

But they must keep their place, like all the rest;

They might be good, but ordered life is best.

What Poetry Form Are You?

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I'm either

I am, of course, none other than blank verse.

I don't know where I'm going, yes, quite right;

And when I get there (if I ever do)

I might not recognise it. So? Your point?

Why should I have a destination set?

I'm relatively happy as I am,

And wouldn't want to be forever aimed

Towards some future path or special goal.

It's not to do with laziness, as such.

It's just that on the whole I'd rather not

Be bothered - so I drift contentedly;

An underrated way of life, I find.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

or

 

I'm terza rima, and I talk and smile.

Where others lock their rhymes and thoughts away

I let mine out, and chatter all the while.

 

I'm rarely on my own - a wasted day

Is any day that's spent without a friend,

With nothing much to do or hear or say.

 

I like to be with people, and depend

On company for being entertained;

Which seems a good solution, in the end.

What Poetry Form Are You?

 

It seems to fit. But it depends on the friends, I suppose. The bit about being unplanned is certainly right. Oh well. I'll know where I'm going when I get there.

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I'm terza rima, and I talk and smile.

Where others lock their rhymes and thoughts away

I let mine out, and chatter all the while.

 

I'm rarely on my own - a wasted day

Is any day that's spent without a friend,

With nothing much to do or hear or say.

 

I like to be with people, and depend

On company for being entertained;

Which seems a good solution, in the end.

 

 

 

or

 

I am, of course, none other than blank verse.

I don't know where I'm going, yes, quite right;

And when I get there (if I ever do)

I might not recognise it. So? Your point?

Why should I have a destination set?

I'm relatively happy as I am,

And wouldn't want to be forever aimed

Towards some future path or special goal.

It's not to do with laziness, as such.

It's just that on the whole I'd rather not

Be bothered - so I drift contentedly;

An underrated way of life, I find.

 

 

rev...

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I thought I'd better have a go at writing a poem for my own challenge lol - so here it is:

 

Ottava Rima for Scarlett O'Harpy

 

Ms Scarlett isn’t ethical or chaste,

no culture-vulture, brain-box, nor aesthete.

Her sensibilities are interlaced

with baser drives: to rut, to slay, to eat!

Although romantic Cery’s often phased

by Harpy’s actions, she withstands the heat.

For method shapes this maddening virago -

what could Othello be - without Iago?

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