rhymes – Right Handed Rhymer

I’ve Got a Voice

I’ve got a voice where you’ve got a song. I’ve got a note, you, a chord. I’ve got a paper, where you’ve got a pen. I’ve got a cry, you, a sword. I’ve got a thread, where you’ve got a loom. I’ve got a key, you, a kite. I’ve got a sail, where you’ve got…

A Hill to Dye On

I’ve a hill to dye on, child. What have you to say? I’ve a hill to pray on, child. Where have you to sleigh? I’ve a hill to lie on, child. What have you as fair? I’ve a hill to beat on, child. Where have you a snare? -Amy Struthers

Mare

There once lived a horse with no hair, a conman had seen at the fair. So he threw on a wig, and did book it a gig, as ‘Mullet the Magical Mare’. -Amy Struthers

Wisdom Tooth

There once lived a tooth who loved plaques, who aced every final in Cracks. Shame the height of his gain brought him nothing but pain, when the pull from his prof made him lax. -Amy Struthers

The Dreamer and Georgie’s Advice

He said, “I’ll be a writer, so tomorrow I will start.”, to which his brother Georgie sighed, “But now’s the time for art!” “But I don’t have time”, the dreamer said. “Then make some!” Georgie cried. “For merry men who lived their life would say you haven’t tried. If you want to dream, then do…

Ribeye Dad

A Ribeye once looked to his son to holler, “Your work is well-done!” To which he replied, “Guess it runs in my hide”, when his phrase met the phase of a bun. – Amy Struthers

The Locksmith from Wales

There once lived a locksmith from Wales who was rather screwy in sales. Who’d proffer the poor a latch to a door, he’d loosen by nicking the nails! -Amy Struthers

The Canary in the Coalmine

The canary in the coalmine of a culture lost at sea is when the tides like tidings shift the use of ‘we’ to ‘me’. It’s the stake we stake to gain one and the rope we loose to hold and the winds we brace to chase a bloody basin full of gold. It’s when a…

A Place in Time

They called it A Place in the land of Time though it had no roof or door, when many came to enter in and tread across its floor. There, young and old did saunter through though none, alas, could stay, as the purpose of A Place in Time was to guide all to ‘the…

Mr. Why

There once lived a boy by the last name of Why who never asked questions or thought. Without man’s permission to guide his ambition, he only retorted with ‘ought’. When sitting in class, he would look to the board to see what the teacher would draw. But in holding his pencil, Why happened to stencil…