Try this poem; remember to read it aloud;
 
 
 
        If Thou Must Love Me
Elizabeth B. Browning  (1806 – 1861)
 
        IF thou must love me, let it be for nought 
        Except for love's sake only. Do not say 
        "I love her for her smile- her look- her way 
        Of speaking gently,- for a trick of thought 
        That falls in well with mine, and certes brought 
        A sense of pleasant ease on such a day"- 
        For these things in themselves, Beloved, may 

i saw her on the train track - standing there
her hair hung down her bent back
hands around a small white sack

she held a broken fiddle - mystery
her history a riddle
just standing in the middle

alone at that old crossroad - lost, she weeps
keeps lifting that heavy load
she has lost the secret code

whatever happened to her - i wonder
then thunder causes a stir
is she going to endure

whistles scream then comes the rain -thunders slam
i am attacked by her pain
as she embraces the train

A child here heaven does call, - shall be brave
Souls must save, fighter stand tall
By virgin hands English fall

Will of God speaks to a girl - precious youth
Witness truth, her fire unfurl
Almighty wrath she now hurls

Fearless, accepting her fate - sad demise
Spirit rise through holy gate
In heaven trust, angels wait

Your challenge members of the workshop and anyone else is write one of these post here and click the workshop box at the bottom to find the workshop label.
Let's look at one of my favourite forms
ENGLYN PENFYR

Let's kick things off with something new for most of you, I'm sure. This is one of the least well-known poetry forms--an old Welsh form called the ENGLYN PENFYR. It is syllabic and rhymed in nature, as opposed to metered, but the use of internal crossover rhymes lends it a very rhythmic quality.

You have dreamt so often of what you would do
If your life were irrevocably changed
That when you are forced finally from the route best understood
And on to another, less obvious way,
You think at first fantasy will sustain you.
Sink then dreamer into what might have been!
For though on the brilliant branch
The brilliant fruit still clings
It is no longer reached with ease,
And its dazzle’s frightening.