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Author Topic: User Poems  (Read 74992 times)

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Offline Theodore Zendarski

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Re: User Poems
« Reply #120 on: January 30, 2022, 10:51:55 PM »
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  • Lost was written on Wednesday March 18, 2020.

    Lost

    I know of a land where truth once it did trod
    A land where one often heard mention of God
    Where the good was not twisted for one's gain
    Where all of the words had meanings so plain
    Where the rights of the many were not forsaken
    Where ungodly desires were not undertaken
    We're told to abandon our God, hunker in place
    Reigns now greed and fear, anxiety we embrace
    Sorrowfully does my heart long for that place
    I've searched on the ground, stared into space
    Here I am now musing upon that loss of grace
    Wondering if we'll turn to see His sweet face
    Vatican II - the Catholic deformation.

    All glory and honor and praise be to our God and loving Father!


    Offline Theodore Zendarski

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    Re: User Poems
    « Reply #121 on: January 30, 2022, 10:55:06 PM »
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  • Written on September 12, 2021.

    We 

    Thusly
    A thought
    The first letter
    A sentence ensues
    The paragraph develops
    A chapter has been inscribed
    The new story can be ascertained
    A position on the bookshelf is reserved
    The copywriter will never be discouraged

    Just as a story begins with a thought and progresses so does our conception and earthly existence.

    I was reading our church bulletin before Mass and saw a notice asking for religious education teachers for our youth. As I reflected on that I felt that I would not be suitable. That afternoon I wrote a non rhyming poem which flowed from my earlier contemplation. I have never written such a poem before.  After finishing I did some research and discovered that it is a type known as a shape poem.


    My contemplation centered around how to provide children with an analogy about life and abortion. A writer begins with a thought and God wills us into existence with a thought. And He will never be discouraged.
    Vatican II - the Catholic deformation.

    All glory and honor and praise be to our God and loving Father!


    Offline StLouisIX

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    Re: User Poems
    « Reply #122 on: March 21, 2022, 10:27:52 PM »
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  • Began on March 16, 2022 and was finalized on March 21, 2022. 


    Meaning


    “We assign to things whatever meaning we choose,
    All events, all values weighed in our minds are without depth.
    The subject determines the object, so ready your noose!
    Banish love from your hearts and deny the ‘consummatum est’.”

    Such as fools err; as we cannot imagine nothingness’ abyss
    To see good or bad in anything is something that we cannot dismiss. 

    Let language here corroborate; does any word go undefined? 
    Since even meaningless means, their words show themselves blind. 

    Just as nothing’s road never was, and never can be 
    So too then must the road of meaninglessness not be. 

    Where does meaning’s road come to? 
    From He who said “EGO SUM QUI SUM”.

    For through Him all things were made, 
    And through His Son flesh became, 
    And through His Spirit Blest sets hearts aflame. 


    .....

    Self commentary:

    The first paragraph is a summation of the opinions and conclusions of those who deny the existence of objective meaning, and rather say that we “create” meaning through our perceptions. Thus this view renders meaning mostly worthless since, according to its principles, all of our interpretations of meaning are without objective truth. The most heinous of these conclusions to deny the value of the Crucifixion and Death of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

    Then the speaker (yours truly) goes on to refute these claims, taking inspiration from the poem Truth by the Greek philosopher Parmenides of Elea and the enlightening words of Bishop Williamson from his many conferences on Modernism. To say that we “construct” meaning is to essentially make a meaning construct in of itself, and such an act also dances around the objective truth that there is an objective means of interpreting events, otherwise language itself would be useless since we would not be able to agree on words having definitions and connotations.

    The part of Parmenides’ poem that best summarizes what I got out of it is this excerpt: 

    Quote
    (B2) But come now, I will tell you⁠ — and you, when you have heard the story, bring it safely
    away ⁠—
    which are the only routes of inquiry that are
    for thinking:
    the one, that is and that it is not possible for
    it not to be,
    is the path of Persuasion (for it attends upon
    Truth),
    the other, that is is not and that it is right that
    it not be,
    this indeed I declare to you a path
    entirely unable to be investigated:
    For neither can you know what is not (for it is
    not to be accomplished)
    nor can you declare it.

    (Proclus, Commentary on Plato’s Timaeus 1.345.18 lines 3-8: Simplicius, Commentary on Aristotle’s Physics 116.28; tmpc)

    From page 27 of the book Readings in Ancient Greek Philosophy, from Thales to Aristotle, edited by S. Marc Cohen, Patricia Curd, and C.D.C. Reeve.


    This poem reaches its climax with a forceful highlighting of the importance of God and His relationship to being. He is both infinitely greater than man but is also infinitely simple, as His declaration to Moses on Mount Sinai indicates. He is also the source of all being, and all meaning.

    I was inspired to make this connection, and I credit Fr. Hesse with providing me with the wisdom to in some part understand this holy mystery. Specifically I refer to (if my memory serves me right) the conference entitled The Proof of God and His One True Church.

    This poem then ends with a praise of the Holy Trinity, tying It to the Oneness of God brought up in the previous two lines. I attempted to demonstrate the distinctness of each Person of the Trinity in these three lines; perhaps I may have erred in making the association of the Father with the creation of all things as strong as it is, as if to push aside the involvement of the Son and the Holy Ghost in the Creation. I did not mean for such an interpretation, I just wished to be general here as to attempt to highlight the truth that each of the Three Persons are distinct yet make up a society of One God. I used terza rima here, as it is said that Dante invented this style to honor the Blessed Trinity. It is both a tribute to the Holy Trinity but also, in a lesser way, to the Catholic genius of Dante Alighieri.


    Offline Theodore Zendarski

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    Re: User Poems
    « Reply #123 on: March 25, 2022, 10:36:46 AM »
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  • Began on March 16, 2022 and was finalized on March 21, 2022.


    Meaning


    “We assign to things whatever meaning we choose,
    All events, all values weighed in our minds are without depth.
    The subject determines the object, so ready your noose!
    Banish love from your hearts and deny the ‘consummatum est’.”

    Such as fools err; as we cannot imagine nothingness’ abyss
    To see good or bad in anything is something that we cannot dismiss.

    Let language here corroborate; does any word go undefined?
    Since even meaningless means, their words show themselves blind.

    Just as nothing’s road never was, and never can be
    So too then must the road of meaninglessness not be.

    Where does meaning’s road come to?
    From He who said “EGO SUM QUI SUM”.

    For through Him all things were made,
    And through His Son flesh became,
    And through His Spirit Blest sets hearts aflame.


    .....

    Self commentary:

    The first paragraph is a summation of the opinions and conclusions of those who deny the existence of objective meaning, and rather say that we “create” meaning through our perceptions. Thus this view renders meaning mostly worthless since, according to its principles, all of our interpretations of meaning are without objective truth. The most heinous of these conclusions to deny the value of the Crucifixion and Death of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

    Then the speaker (yours truly) goes on to refute these claims, taking inspiration from the poem Truth by the Greek philosopher Parmenides of Elea and the enlightening words of Bishop Williamson from his many conferences on Modernism. To say that we “construct” meaning is to essentially make a meaning construct in of itself, and such an act also dances around the objective truth that there is an objective means of interpreting events, otherwise language itself would be useless since we would not be able to agree on words having definitions and connotations.

    The part of Parmenides’ poem that best summarizes what I got out of it is this excerpt:

    From page 27 of the book Readings in Ancient Greek Philosophy, from Thales to Aristotle, edited by S. Marc Cohen, Patricia Curd, and C.D.C. Reeve.


    This poem reaches its climax with a forceful highlighting of the importance of God and His relationship to being. He is both infinitely greater than man but is also infinitely simple, as His declaration to Moses on Mount Sinai indicates. He is also the source of all being, and all meaning.

    I was inspired to make this connection, and I credit Fr. Hesse with providing me with the wisdom to in some part understand this holy mystery. Specifically I refer to (if my memory serves me right) the conference entitled The Proof of God and His One True Church.

    This poem then ends with a praise of the Holy Trinity, tying It to the Oneness of God brought up in the previous two lines. I attempted to demonstrate the distinctness of each Person of the Trinity in these three lines; perhaps I may have erred in making the association of the Father with the creation of all things as strong as it is, as if to push aside the involvement of the Son and the Holy Ghost in the Creation. I did not mean for such an interpretation, I just wished to be general here as to attempt to highlight the truth that each of the Three Persons are distinct yet make up a society of One God. I used terza rima here, as it is said that Dante invented this style to honor the Blessed Trinity. It is both a tribute to the Holy Trinity but also, in a lesser way, to the Catholic genius of Dante Alighieri.
    Well done indeed!
    Vatican II - the Catholic deformation.

    All glory and honor and praise be to our God and loving Father!

    Offline Theodore Zendarski

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    Re: User Poems
    « Reply #124 on: April 09, 2022, 09:46:51 PM »
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  • Penned on April 8, 2022.

    Inobservance

    My beloved did grant, her permission received
    That I may enter within, in a most blessed way
    Destined to counter the ways, of those in decay
    To unloose the bonds, of those sorely deceived

    Immediately hastening forth, quickly we did go
    To complete a task, embarked on an arduous trip
    The spirit to bestow, with an unquenchable grip
    To delineate a path, the way for mine to know


    Why did Mary visit Elizabeth? Perhaps we should consider that Jesus was also visiting.
    Could the visitation have been an "inobservant" sign that John the Baptist was baptized in
    the womb by the Holy Spirit?
    Vatican II - the Catholic deformation.

    All glory and honor and praise be to our God and loving Father!


    Offline Filipino Carlist

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    Re: User Poems
    « Reply #125 on: April 14, 2022, 10:44:12 PM »
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  • The Wood of the Cross: A Good Friday Poem



    Behold the wood,


    The Wood of the Cross,


    Betwixt heaven and Earth,


    The lamb for man's salvation.



    Rejoice oh mankind,


    For the gates of heaven once closed,


    Now open to all who are worthy


    Yet mourn oh cruel man,


    And behold the wood of the Cross.



    There lies your Christ,


    In agony throughout,


    His back torn to shreds,


    And his head pierced


    With a crown of thorns.



    His sacred heart beats on,


    as a drum for a regiment,


    Onwards to reconquer,


    And repair the sin of Adam.



    For 3 hours long,


    He hung in agony untold,


    Till he uttered "consummatum est"


    And all of creation grieved.



    Glory to you, O divine Messiah!


    Glory to you, O King of Kings!


    For thou hast redeemed the world,


    Upon the wood of thy Holy Cross.










    Offline Polymath

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    Re: User Poems
    « Reply #127 on: August 01, 2022, 10:20:12 AM »
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  • Someone mentioned that I should put my actual poems here in addition to the links, so here they are.  Please show these (especially the first, as people have told me it can make a real difference) to as many people as possible and encourage them to do the same.

    Elegy For The Child Never Conceived
    (First published at the Society of Classical Poets, July 26, 2022)

    His would-be parents had but days;
    The procreative ship sat docked,
    And with the passengers’ delays,
    That ship is gone, forever locked,
    But if, instead, he’d been conceived
    And been allowed to live and die,
    His soul could one day be received
    In the embrace of God Most High.

    And hence it grieves my heart to see
    A child-shaped space unoccupied,
    Not running in the grass with glee,
    Nor leaning on his mother’s side,
    And no one in his space in bed
    To kiss goodnight while tucking in;
    No smiling face, no heart well-fed,
    No warm caress from hands to skin.

    When weighed against one human soul,
    No sacrifice too great to give
    Could ever be for such a goal
    That one’s own child may simply live.

    God’s Way And My Way
    (First published at the Society of Classical Poets, June 13, 2022)

    I thought I could cheat the system
    And fight all the rules and resist ‘em,
    But God has His way
    At the end of the day;
    Now I’ve too many problems to list ‘em!

    A Modernization of “To His Coy Mistress”
    (First published at the Society of Classical Poets, June 17, 2022)

    You say we should some years delay
    The coming of our wedding day,
    But God commanded us to try
    To fruitful be and multiply.
    To make new life, we cannot shirk;
    The night shall come, when none can work.
    Just as she cannot grow more legs,
    A baby girl has all her eggs;
    In adolescence they will start
    To walk onstage and then depart,
    And monthly one by one they pass
    Like sand grains in an hourglass,
    And once the time onstage is missed,
    One soul for Heaven won’t exist.
    That we may strive to give them life,
    Come with me now and be my wife.

    What Is “Pro-Choice?”
    (First published at the Society of Classical Poets, June 13, 2022)

    If my child were sent to die,
    Be chopped to pieces like a pig,
    To spare him death, I’d plead and beg,
    His life with mine to buy.

    Yet pregnant moms demand their “rights”
    To chop their children in their wombs
    In hit-men’s bright and sterile rooms,
    As if they’re parasites.

    To liberals, if a pregnant woman
    Wants the baby, it’s her child.
    If not, it’s vermin, it’s reviled;
    It somehow isn’t human.

    To you who call yourselves “pro-choice:”
    Your unborn victims have no voice.

    Shoulders of Giants
    (First published at the Society of Classical Poets, June 17, 2022)
    I’m standing up high on the shoulders of giants
    Where I can see farther than many a man
    I reach down my hand to lift up some new clients
    They tell me they’re happy down where they began

    I swing to new giants and climb on their shoulders
    Ever ascending through year after year
    Searching the heights for some fellow beholders
    To find me a wife and to raise children here

    We’ll teach them to follow us higher and higher
    And see things so few eyes have gazed on before
    And strive all our days to pursue that desire
    Till we all disembark on the heavenly shore!

    TV Bubble
    (First published at the Society of Classical Poets, June 17, 2022)

    I passed three houses in a row,
    The men like snakes charmed by the game.
    The windows I jogged past would show
    The footage on each screen the same.
    One picture hung in many a mind,
    And here I’ve just one trouble:
    Since I don’t watch, I’ve been maligned
    As “living in a bubble!”


    More will follow once they’re published.  I’m not comfortable posting them publicly until then.


    Offline Polymath

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    Re: User Poems
    « Reply #128 on: September 15, 2022, 01:16:00 PM »
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  • I got more published!

    https://classicalpoets.org/2022/08/27/a-villanelle-for-robert-hoogland-by-joshua-c-frank/


    (Hoogland was imprisoned for calling his daughter female)

    A Villanelle for Robert Hoogland

    Their mouths are gagged, their hands are bound;
    Their children taken by the state,
    These parents have no legal ground.


    While children run and play around
    The lip of Hell’s wide, yawning gate,
    Their mouths are gagged, their hands are bound.


    If they should ever make a sound,
    They’ll age in jail for crimes of hate;
    These parents have no legal ground.


    Their efforts will be quickly drowned
    As red tape seals their children’s fate.
    Their mouths are gagged, their hands are bound.


    Their children seized, locked in the pound,
    Can’t help them now, for it’s too late,
    These parents have no legal ground.


    Must we raise our kids unsound
    And watch them eat the devil’s bait?
    Our mouths are gagged, our hands are bound;
    We parents have no legal ground.

    .
    The Great Satan

    We’ve taught the China folk to snack
    To sell them our potato chips;
    We stabbed their culture in the back
    With words of treasures on our lips.
    Thus now we teach the world to sin
    To sell them poisons for their faith:
    More time with trinkets, less with kin,
    And no regrets till it’s too late.


    Colonialism is okay
    As long as churches are suppressed.
    Exporting devils every day,
    That’s the mission of the West.
    The West once shone atop a hill,
    But now it’s Satan’s global shill.


    Offline Polymath

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    Re: User Poems
    « Reply #129 on: October 07, 2022, 09:55:52 AM »
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  • https://classicalpoets.org/2022/10/05/the-tech-addicts-lament-and-other-poetry-by-joshua-c-frank/


    The Tech Addict’s Lament

    As I take one more hit of electronic cocaine,
    I snort a fresh shot of noise into my brain
    And feel the cacophony’s endless refrain
    Charging at me like a runaway train.


    I collapse on the floor, and I think, “What a drain!
    I’d love to walk out, and I’d love to abstain,
    But the slowness of real-space seems flat and mundane.”
    So, I’m tied to the tech with a thick iron chain.

    .

    Ballad of the Video-Game Hero

    I rode in a mine cart, back home from the land
    __Of my favorite video game,
    Through the pixelized prairie and vast seas of sand,
    __Over rivers of lava and flame.


    The hero sat there in the rickety cart
    __Staring off into pixel-sky space,
    Much older than on the game cartridge’s art,
    __With tears on his wide, wrinkled face.


    “I’m leaving and never returning,” he said.
    __“Come listen and hear my sad story.
    The princess and I, we hoped someday to wed,
    __Way back in the days of my glory.


    “The dragon would kidnap the princess, then I
    __Would run through an obstacle course
    To his minions’ dark castles in mountains up high
    __And take back their strongholds by force.


    “My princess was in the last castle I’d raid;
    __I always found treasures to haul.
    The Kingdom would welcome me with a parade
    __And a sumptuous banquet for all.


    “But after some years, the dragon found ways
    __To undermine me and my quest.
    He gave up the tactic of ‘pillage and raze’—
    __Bribed the people with treasure-filled chests!


    “My princess then fell for the dragon’s top minion;
    __The Kingdom surrendered the war
    And exiled me out of the dragon’s dominion—
    __They don’t want to be saved anymore!”


    We came to my world, and we sealed up the gate
    __To the land of his video game.
    My world is secured from his land’s tragic fate,
    __But I’m worried for us just the same.


    For evil has bribed all the people here, too,
    __With shiny new gadgets galore.
    No more do they care for what’s good and what’s true—
    __They don’t want to be saved anymore!

    .

    One-Man Duet

    There’s a musician on the ’Net
    With himself in a duet.
    On the screen, the doubled fellow
    Plays both violin and cello.

    To viewers, it would thus appear
    That he’s two players, like we hear.


    First he played the violin,
    Recorded it with his machine,
    Then played his cello, harmonized
    With silent notes, all mechanized—
    No soul, no mind behind what brings
    A faithful echo of his strings.


    While playing both the parts alone,
    Recording selfies on his phone,
    He knows bowed instruments are made
    With other people to be played.
    What kind of world must he abide,
    Where no one’s playing at his side?


    Offline Polymath

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    Re: User Poems
    « Reply #130 on: November 12, 2022, 09:10:40 AM »
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  • https://classicalpoets.org/2022/11/11/no-extra-lives-by-joshua-c-frank/

    No Extra Lives

    While all his friends were learning skills
    To gain them wives or pay their bills,
    John fought with monsters on a screen,
    Got knighted by a game world’s queen,
    Amassing troves of digi-treasure
    That bought eight bits of gaming pleasure.


    But as the habit lasted longer,
    John’s dungeon shackles grew much stronger.
    His friends moved on and all gained wives
    While he sat gaining extra lives—
    One-upped by men just half his age
    Who’d put in time and earned life’s wage.


    One day, much older, John awoke
    And felt his electronic yoke:
    No friends, no wife, and children none,
    His life still stalled at World 1-1.
    No princess wishes to be saved
    By a gaming hero thus enslaved.


    John’s game-themed room now seemed a waste,
    An emblem of his time misplaced.
    No dragon’s hoard of Jєωels and gold
    Could buy back time and youth he’d sold
    For shiny bits of program code—
    He wept beside perdition’s road.


    But, leaving home and breaking free,
    He had no guide for strategy.
    The social world seemed too complex
    To a man who lived in pixel specks,
    And so he ran back home to game,
    Never quitting, to his shame.


    The moral of this tale in rhyme?
    Work while you’re young, don’t waste your time.
    Don’t put your life goals off till later;
    Shoot down your schedule’s space-invaders,
    Or, like our captured gamer guy,
    You’ll find your life has passed you by.




    Offline Polymath

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    Re: User Poems
    « Reply #131 on: November 12, 2022, 09:11:55 AM »
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  • If you like my poetry, I’m getting published all the time; I even have my own page at the magazine that publishes me now:

    https://classicalpoets.org/?s=Joshua+C.+Frank

    Offline ServusInutilisDomini

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    • O sacrum convivum... https://youtu.be/-WCicnX6pN8
    Re: User Poems
    « Reply #132 on: November 12, 2022, 01:53:40 PM »
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  • https://classicalpoets.org/2022/11/11/no-extra-lives-by-joshua-c-frank/

    No Extra Lives

    While all his friends were learning skills
    To gain them wives or pay their bills,
    John fought with monsters on a screen,
    Got knighted by a game world’s queen,
    Amassing troves of digi-treasure
    That bought eight bits of gaming pleasure.


    But as the habit lasted longer,
    John’s dungeon shackles grew much stronger.
    His friends moved on and all gained wives
    While he sat gaining extra lives—
    One-upped by men just half his age
    Who’d put in time and earned life’s wage.


    One day, much older, John awoke
    And felt his electronic yoke:
    No friends, no wife, and children none,
    His life still stalled at World 1-1.
    No princess wishes to be saved
    By a gaming hero thus enslaved.


    John’s game-themed room now seemed a waste,
    An emblem of his time misplaced.
    No dragon’s hoard of Jєωels and gold
    Could buy back time and youth he’d sold
    For shiny bits of program code—
    He wept beside perdition’s road.


    But, leaving home and breaking free,
    He had no guide for strategy.
    The social world seemed too complex
    To a man who lived in pixel specks,
    And so he ran back home to game,
    Never quitting, to his shame.


    The moral of this tale in rhyme?
    Work while you’re young, don’t waste your time.
    Don’t put your life goals off till later;
    Shoot down your schedule’s space-invaders,
    Or, like our captured gamer guy,
    You’ll find your life has passed you by.

    Very good.

    I think English is not that good for poetry, at least most English poetry sounds bad to me because it is severely limited by the lack of declensions and fixed word order, however, this sounds pretty good, probably because of your alliteration.

    Offline Polymath

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    Re: User Poems
    « Reply #133 on: November 12, 2022, 04:50:30 PM »
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  • Very good.

    I think English is not that good for poetry, at least most English poetry sounds bad to me because it is severely limited by the lack of declensions and fixed word order, however, this sounds pretty good, probably because of your alliteration.

    Thanks!  This poem earned me high praise from a university English professor, leading a friend who’s a very experienced and prolific poet and knows him to tell me this means I’ve made it as a poet.

    Poetry in English was not always in its present form; originally, it was in alliterative verse, where there were a fixed number of stressed syllables per line (usually four) that always started with the same sound within each line, but didn’t necessarily rhyme or have a fixed number of unstressed syllables between two stressed ones.