Help with rhyme

Could someone give me pointers on rhyme and meter. I understand this is the poetic equivalent of the meaning of life, but I'm stuck. I want to do some good rhymed work and I would like some idea about the pitfalls and things I should avoid. Any ideas?

Well, my issue is this: I tried the sonnet form with iambic pentameter and found it virtually impossible to maintain throughout. I'm wondering if it is, in fact, necessary to keep strictly to the chosen meter? I'm also wondering if it is also necessary to only rhyme the last word of the sentences? I realize you are all chuckling in your morning coffee at my silly questions but, for some reason, these are standing between me and my development as a poet and, more importantly, as a writer.

'fer example. I posted my piece A Summer Storm On The Peace River here and on other sites to get feedback. One of the reviewers on another forum challenged me to write it in rhyme, which I though would be a great exercise, and here is what I came up with: (btw, Janet was the one who suggested I write it in rhyme which is why the ode is to her, in gratitude for the exercise)

Ode To Janet

Evening on the river’s edge soon found darkness drawing near,
but clouds obscured the starry skies that often joined me here
and from the safety of my porch I sat to watch the show,
when suddenly the wind-brushed chimes foretold the coming blow.

Sensuous jasmine; hint of storms from many years before,
when you and I sat in this place and yearned for something more,
but circumstance left me alone and memories tugged my soul;
reminding me that your sweet touch was all that made me whole.

A rumble from the harbor way announced the savage fight
between the hot and cold that met on steamy August nights
and chased across the darkening skies for all around to hear,
so painfully reminding me of our last bitter year.

Lightning flashed inside the spires of tow’ring nimbus clouds;
I though I caught a fleeting glimpse, a teary-eyed and proud
picture of you when you unleashed your bright white fire on me,
and left a flash-burned outline; such a poignant memory.

But then it rained in cool relief and washed away my pain;
the summer torrent cleared the air so I could breathe again.
I closed my eyes and locked away your memory for a while;
white-noise-soothing rain again brought me the strength to smile.

I'm invoking the newbie priviledge of ignorance. I was unclear in that the poem I just posted was NOT the sonnet of which I spoke earlier. That work is this (and no, iambic pentameter it is not...)

I Forgive You

God forgives the sins of men like me,
but He is absent from this earthly hell;
that platform in the square will surely see
me swing after the tolling of the bell.
Laws are hard on sinners, whores and crooks;
and men of cloth, concerned only with souls,
find penance for their crimes in holy books
while wretches rot in dark and stinking holes.
I won’t shed a tear for all my troubles;
the robber’s trade exacts a heavy price,
but sin has interest that often doubles;
the gallows’ rope will open Hell’s door twice.
So call the priest and set the clock to noon
just don’t forget that you’ll be with me soon.

pb10220 said:

You're inspiring me to try another one, now.

Click to expand...

I'm usually perspirational, not inspirational.

Thanks Pat, will do. This damned poetry is like a drug for me. I've only been writing this stuff for a little over a month and I'm feeling like that Hans Christian Anderson boy with his finger in the dyke.