How to Write a Poem - hyperbole poems
If you want to learn how to write a hyperbole poem, there are a few steps or pointers that can be of tremendous help.
Read: Read all the various forms of poetry -- ballads, limericks, haiku, sonnets, quatrains, couplets, free verse and more(Look to hyperbole, to see how the poet makes these devices to work in his poem)
Write: Write without pressure. To this end, most poets and writers employ a journal.
Rewrite: There are two schools of thought on euphemisms. Some authors like them - and many do not. (Put in a word, make a word. Smooth and shape. Do as close to perfection as possible, bearing in mind that only God comes to perfection.)
***hyperbole poem 1***
To His Coy Mistress - by:Andrew Marvell
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
***hyperbole poem 2***
Summertime is Here - by Sharon Hendricks
My tongue is a piece of sandpaper
I’m dissolving into a puddle.
I want to dive into a snowdrift
Though I’m sure that would befuddle
Open me up, my organs are cooked
I think I’m now well done.
You can fry an egg upon my brow
As I melt away in the sun!