Common Meter in Common Meter

The following is a playful introduction to writing poems in the Common Meter (or Metre or Measure), written in the common meter! Please enjoy, and share where you wish.

My dear adventurers, it’s me!

My name is Aimee Wood.

Today let’s speak of poetry—

The awful and the good.

Specifically I’d like to chat,

About the common poem.

The beat of iambic format,

Is where I’ve made my home.

This cadence and the rhymes within,

Historically well tred—

From Shakespeare to dear Dickinson,

With ease this prose is read.

To memorize we oft prefer,

The power of the rhyme.

From toddler to the theater,

A mind minds best in time.

So let’s dissect the common mete,

We’ll start with the iamb.

Two syllables, a pair, with beat—

Like this, or that, kablam!

Next link your iambs in a row,

Like I am doing now.

Split words if needed, let them flow,

Then make it rhyme somehow!

The common common scheme is thus—

Eight six and eight and six.

With syllables you’ll make a fuss,

Let iambs be your bricks.

Inflect, my dear! Each second stressed,

And mind it’s all well tuned.

Lines odd and even rhyme when pressed,

And blooms grow best when pruned.

Used well by both the great and small,

The common puts at ease.

Of course, it may not top them all,

But seldom does displease.


The common measure remains my favorite, and my book of three hundred poems, “Merry Meet & Merry Part”, is written exclusively in this lovely lilt.

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True Love

I read the following poem at the memorial service of my maternal granddaddy. Here is a recording taken later, for my mother.

It marks us now- in truth, true love,

Must end in tragedy.

One parts, one bides, a mourning dove,

Regret not bended knee.

The happy endings- fairytales.

They finish, all the same.

Delight in middles- love prevails,

Beginnings overcame.

Goodnight my darling, fare thee well,

An honor it has been.

One day we’ll hear that bitter bell-

Yet choose our path again.

♥︎ Let us all keep our lanterns lit, and look out for one another.

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Riddle Free

early February cold and soft feelings, romance, maybe, careful and careless. Read or listen here.

This way perhaps, or is it there

We pause as if we’re close

The frigid air, a cold snap’s snare

Has crept up to our toes

It’s hard to tell just where we’ve been

Now that we’ve stopped to see

We’re wrapped in why’s and how’s and when’s

Feel bound and boundless, free

On beaten hearts off beaten paths,

One riddle left to lose.

A little lost, a little found,

Yet still we get to choose.

Written February 11, 2021

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