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Write a poem rhyming the word “orange” with something else. Post it in the comments below. This challenge comes from Cheryl Corey, who provided the below poem as inspiration:
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Nothing Rhymes With Orange
Why, oh why, does nothing rhyme with orange?
But if I say it en franҫais—“l’orange,”
Aha! I get a woman’s name—“Solange!”
but back to orange …
Maybe I can fudge it? For example:
By candlelight her face was even more angelic;
The Rolling Stones once wrote a song for Angie;
The tourist’s choice: Rhône valley or Anjou.
I rack my brain and these are but a sample,
The options being few and hardly ample,
Which leads me where? Where else,
but back to orange.
.
.
Mating Ritual
The sun shined slivers from its gold-orange
Sphere, breaking through the trees as to avenge
The makers of Stonehenge, tied to the sun
And sun-made oaks, in cloaks that hands had spun,
Ensuring purity with their pure hands,
Hands pure from human blood as the demands
Of deity are met, to find the one
That does not rhyme a match — or is there none? —
A match that doesn’t match and therefore makes
A more engaging mate, until it takes
Its final line of light below the lip
Of land and light releases its last grip.
Thank you for your contribution, Troy.
Good old King William of Orange
Said “All of my subjects are foreignj-
Ust ‘cos I’m Dutch,
They don’t like me much,
So I think I’ll head back to Orange.”
Interesting take, and I like the way your play on “back to Orange”.
As I walked to the yard to pick an orange,
I tore my new pants upon the door hinge.
Short and sweet.
Nothing Rhymes with ORANGE!!
I’m foraging for words that rhyme with orange.
No poet worth a verse could fail to meet
A challenge that would make the lesser scribe cringe –
Unhinge and singe a mind not used to heat.
I’ve sucked a lozenge as I’ve scaled The Blorenge,
Impinging on the fringe of nature’s worth
For inspiration; all I found was ‘sporange’ –
a nerdy term for fern – a wordsmith’s curse!
I scavenge for a stringent orange melange
And I won’t wail or whinge although I burst
For more than mere obstringe, syringe, or door hinge –
Cringeworthy words that fail to slake my thirst.
I won’t settle for a mangy tangerine
When a juicy orange stanza is my dream.
NB
The Blorenge – a mountain in Monmouthshire, S E Wales
sporange – a botanical term for part of a fern
or whinge – mispronunciation of orange 😉
Susan, yours may be the closest yet. Do “Blorenge” and “sporange”, when pronounced, qualify as exact rhymes?
I found it maddening to come up with the words which, when elided, would sound even close to orange. So many highly-skilled poets visit this site. I knew that I would be out-done!
P.S. I love your ending couplet.
Thank you, Cheryl. What a great challenge with a great inspirational poem to spur us poets on. I love all the responses. I think ‘Blorenge’ and ‘sporange’ qualify as exact rhymes. The tough task was fitting them into a poem that made some sort of sense… I don’t think I’ve quite succeeded, but I had a lot of fun trying. Thanks again!
But, Susan, isn’t the botanical term actually “sporangium?”
In cockney if ‘arry says “apples and pears”
‘E’s really describing a walk down the stairs.
If I ‘aggle a bit with me “trouble and strife”
I’m really addressing my dear ‘appy wife”
So now will you join me for gin and an orange?
Oh, blimey, I’ve broken the lock and the door ‘inge!
Really well done, Brian, especially if you read it aloud and try to get into a cockney groove. Clever that you thought to rhyme orange with “door ‘inge”.
This is wicked good! Well done, lad.
Brian, I couldn’t Adam and Eve that you could write in cockney. I am just waiting for my trouble and strife to sort her Barnet Fair before nipping down to the Indian for a Ruby Murray. Brilliant verse.
I only know a couple of cockney phrases so I actually had to go to google to translate your incomprehensibly fun comment. I hope your Ruby Murray was delicious. Shabba ranks, Jeff!
Two Ronnies Cockney List
Order four candles
Seven fork ‘andles
Twenty door ‘inges
Forty oranges…
Thanks Brian!
Brian, how innovative and hilarious… if only I’d have thought of the cockney path to orange success! My dad’s a cockney and I’ve learned a lot of cockney rhyming slang. Cockneys always drop their aitches. My rather posh mother reprimanded my dad for that ‘orrible ‘abit, so he decided to add inappropriate Haitches. I roared with laughter at his Helephants, Happles, and Hanything Helse Hamusing ‘eaded my way.
Thank you, Susan. That’s a fantastic family story! Might there be a humorous poem lurking in there…? You could have a lot of fun writing it!
The winner so far, IMHO.
Yeah Brian, the cockney accent works. As Hyacinth Bouquet’s brother-in-law on the British sitcom “Keeping Up Appearances says: “Nice.” LOL!
Brian, although I do not want to be included in this orange competition, I offer the following:
“My rights shall not be infringed.”
I have turned from pale red to deep orange.
He attacked me with a Covid syringe,
and kept jabbing until I came unhinged.
(LOL! AS music to Psycho is playing)
Thanks, Tamara! I thoroughly enjoyed your poem as well!
Said the proud orange to the kiwi,
“What a shrimp!” But the grapefruit sneered. She
Then declared to the orange,
“You’ll notice my four inch-
Es bests your pedestrian three.”
(Apologies to the little kiwi for improper accentuation.)
A nice little fellow
Once threw me an orange
Plump, tasty and mellow…
But out of my jaw range.
Clever and resourceful.
The French seized the Saar (1920)
Because it had coal mines a-plenty.
The tale has this little addendum:
The Krauts, in a huge referendum,
Got it back, but when Hitler was beaten,
The French (at a big post-war meetin’)
Took it over once more for ten years
Until they were paid their arrears.
Then back to the Germans the place went
And French underwent an effacement.
All of these doings were legal —
The Saar’s under Germany’s eagle.
It’s tougher than rhyming with orange —
All of this intricate Saar-change.
I was once asked to rhyme the word ‘orange’,
Believe it or not, with ‘something else’.
Thank you.
Genius.
When you have a sore throat, it’s best
to give all kinds of Strepsils a test;
and I find the lozenge
that’s flavoured with orange
tastes better than all of the rest.
Orange trees
“Are inj”ured by freeze.
He once belonged to a lunatic fringe
who stood against to the plutocracy
also detested of hypocrisy
spit vexingly the pips of an orange.
But his reckless act made his wings to singe.
Now he in silence lives out his last days
in the hospital and blankly does gaze
at a needle attached to a syringe.
The Desserting Captain
The captain of the Gettysburg, Gorringe,
Was partial to a jelly-like blancmange
Partaken lazing on his prized chaise longue,
Upholstered in a safety vest orange.
David…brilliant!
A crafty Orangutan sat up a tree,
And thought, “ I could add an additional ‘e’
To make my name longer, so happy I’d be,
“Orangeutan’ sounds very French, you’ll agree.
So pleased with himself,
As he chomped a blood orange,
Then he sat on some embers,
Which made his poor arse singe.
Antique kitchenware
Without a manual, I seem
Quite lost midst pewter’s aging gleam
And copper’s fire, and earthen’s dusty-orange.
Do platters… platt? Seems causable…
A pitcher’s pitch sounds plausible….
But I’ll consign to history how to porringe.
witty
When juicing, Angelo, I think
It’s best to do it in the sink
Because it isn’t likely that
You can escape without a splat
From any plump and beauteous orange
That you have sliced in quarters, Ange.
Lovely!
exquisitely understated.
Takes time to appreciate it!
Orange, smorange — no problema!
Nash confessed with wink of eye.
Why, anything can rhyme with something
When one’s diligent . . . and wry!
This is hilariously clever!
He bought it from his friend Pedro,
Assured that God he soon would know.
An open channel in his mind,
His inner vision realigned.
Into the bong, he placed the ganj—
Then polished off my duck a l’orange.
SOME WORDS REFUSE TO RHYME
By Roy E. Peterson (April 13, 2018)
I know some words refuse to rhyme
I run across them all the time.
Try to rhyme a word like “purple.”
Ned Miller made it “maple surple.”
We all know orange won’t rhyme in English.
I guess it makes the word distinguished.
One word only rhymes with “orange,”
An alternate form that is called “sporange.”
Now try to use that in a verse.
The poem would go from bad to worse.
A “sporange” is a piece of fern.
Something that I can’t unlearn.
The closest word to rhyme with “poem”
Is from the Bible. It’s “Jeroboam.”
Some words are close like “home,” or “roam,”
And I could use a trick like “hoe ’em.”
“Bulb” won’t rhyme with anything.
No matter what they do in spring.
Nothing rhymes with “silver” either.
Now I am a true believer.
I use “Angel” all the time,
But not at the end to rhyme.
There is no rhyme for “Angel,” so
I have to change poetic flow.
A few more with no rhymes observed,
Are “month” and then three spatial words.
“Width,” “breadth,” and “depth” don’t match,
With words from any other batch.
Poets have to take some time
To find words that really rhyme.
Next time I think we’ll discuss
The coining of “Snuffleupagus.”
Roy, you could have titled your poem, “Mission Impossible!” Well done. I liked it.
Excellent thought about the title and thank you for your kind words.
Thanks for this earlier piece, bringing attention to other words that are difficult to rhyme. Food for thought.
Sunday October 31, 2021
Orange hallow’s day
Where it leads
Hollow,
the pumpkin’s head.
October’s bugging, staying out.
Oh, no goulash.
Around October’s dead.
It’s the spookiest Halloween.
Sunday October 31, 2021
Orange hallow’s Eve
Where it leads
Hollow,
the pumpkin’s head.
October’s bugging, staying out.
Oh, no goulash.
Around October’s dead.
It’s the spookiest Halloween.
A rhyme for orange? I can do it!
Tapped an address on my cell phone,
Looked the answer up on “Rhyme Zone,”
Found that you’d all beat me to it!
Here is no Rhyme Zoning binge.
I looked up ‘orange’
in my undersized brain
and located a ‘lozenge’
betwixt and betwain
‘cringe’, ‘singe’ and ‘tinge’.
Love “betwixt and betwain”! The responses to this challenge are certainly impressive.
Of course we all know the old joke:
A: What rhymes with Orange?
B: No, it doesn’t!
Scientists at the cutting edge
Say we should eat more fruit and veg
But my fear of one citrus fruit
Has clinically been judged acute
I know I should not flinch or cringe
But I’ve no choice with an orange
There are at least three more words which don’t really rhyme in English–silver, month, and purple. I’ve incorporated all of them in the following poem:
A MOTHER OF A TEENAGE DAUGHTER LAMENTS
She’s turning my hair all silver,
That daughter I’d like to kill, Ver-
Onica. Asked for an orange,
She returned with a car hinge,
Lisping, “I’m not really a dunth–
It’s jutht my time of the month.”
Next, I swear, that little twerp’ll
Want to have her hair dyed purple.
Now that’s a feat!
And that’s that, a quartet of rhyming songwords closing down competition.
What a performance!
What a nutty narrative – I’m tickled by your pejorative!
A SOGGY LAMENT
Eugene O’Neil, got drunk, and found his face
In the mirror morphing pink to orange.
Asked to leave, he shouted, “It’s a disgrace!
“Why me? Just me? Not a vote to bar Inge!”
The bit to the end.
Angie’s Muse
One evening on the porch,
her friends all said “Write more, Ang”,
inspired by the torch
of sunset’s rustic orange.
(Stretching it a bit…’Ang’ is short for Angie.)
Rewrite with different punctuation…
Angie’s Muse
One evening on the porch,
her friends all said “Write more, Ang,
inspired by the torch
of sunset’s rustic orange.”
Enjoyed and thank you for sharing.
The poet gave a loud harrumph
When tasked to rhyme a word with month
And when he found he had to pilfer
Some loose-change word to rhyme with silver
His mood grew darker still.
But when he found he must interpol
ate enjambment to accommod
ate a word to rhyme with purple
It got under his skin worse than any syringe
Or being told there was no word
That he could rhyme with orange
I found a magic ring that makes up words.
It’s multicolored: red and green and orange.
I picked it up and mustered all my corange
and slipped it on. How strange. I had a birds-
eye view of all our English words. Two-thirds
were uninvented still, and I was soarange
over streams of etymologies still pourange
into seas of future meanings, wild herds
of colorful profanities like whorange,
strange cities where New Englishish is spoken,
and universities where wokes speak Woken
and dye their hair in glorange and in blorange,
which scientists illegally will clorange
in labs someday from red, green, and orange.
Well done, Mr. D’Anselmi, I think this is the right direction to go with this challenge. See my contribution below.
I could dot for de life of be
dink up a rhybe for orange,
Until I caught a cold — and, see,
De rhybe is id by porringe!
(What’s bore, dis cold is sparing be
de taste of orange porringe.)
Now do “Silver!”
An Encounter with the Rhymes-with-Oranges of Dr. Seuss Land
by Evan Mantyk
One day while crossing Dr. Seuss Land,
I ran into a quite obtuse band
Of locals who were all one clan,
Who had what seemed an orange tan
And all were surnamed Rhymes-with-Orange:
The dad was Dorange Rhymes-with-Orange,
The mom was Morange Rhymes-with-Orange,
The sister Sorange Rhymes-with-Orange,
The brother Brorange Rhymes-with-Orange.
Their favorite food? You guessed it—an orange!
The women wore orange hair buns,
The men had orange juice in their squirt guns,
And when they talked they had an accent;
At first, I didn’t know what they meant.
When Dorange meant “Go sweep the floor”
Instead he’d say “Go sweep the florange,”
When Sorange meant “The time is four,”
Instead she’d say “The time is fourange,”
When Brorange meant “The rain will pour”
Instead he’d say “The rain will pourange,”
When Morange meant “Please close the door”
Instead she’d say “Please close the dorange,”
And Dorange would joke “No don’t close me.”
Then all would laugh quite happily.
But when their laughing all died down,
They all were wearing one large frown.
As they explained, “We were convicted
And are from Seuss Land now evicted.
Someone said we’re too offensive
And toward our clan they’re reprehensive.
As if we’re made to hurt some feelings
Or failed in some strange racial healings!
They say we look like Puerto Ricans—
Or did they say like Costa Ricans?
Or maybe it was like Brazilians—
No, no, I think it was Sicilians!”
At any rate, they now faced exile,
Were clapped in irons and marched in file,
And this is why we can’t rhyme orange:
Because they exiled each Rhymes-with-Orange.
Enjoyed reading this, found myself smiling
at the tanned Rhymes-with -Orange clan!
Very clever and great sense of humour.
This must have extracted quite an effort.
I have no doubt Dr. Seuss would have
loved it.
The Golden Gate, a masterpiece for engineers
isn’t really gold; it’s orange veneers
approximate a sunset in a slanted way
and yet there’s something just below cliche —
the great idea — before it ends in sky
provoked inspired or engendered by
the leonine fog, that never grows old
that leaves a tacky orange rendered gold.
To make it rhyme, see what’s not there. Combine it with something.
Internal rhyme:
1. slant: for engineers/orange veneers
2. [or eng]endered / [orange] rendered. If one drawls “inspired” out to in-spi-erd, then the “or” can be a stressed syllable. Technically still not perfect, though, because I think a linguist would tell me it’s “en-gendered” and not “eng-endered”.
you’ve sharpen your course.
“What does it matter,” cried orange turning blue,
“Why are the great and the good in cahoots and having fun at my expense
Competing whilst repeating and lamenting
That the word orange does not have any rhyming counter parts”
“You know sirs,’ continued orange with aplomb,
“Just remember I have segments for refreshment,
And in times gone by an orange was a treat
Afforded only by the rich
So for a fruit I am quite unique, quite unsurpassed in vitamin c,
So lack of rhyme you must forgive’ –
“My dear cousin just hold on,” said lemon quite forlorn,
As he longed for that zest in life of being discussed at poetry soirees;
Instead he always got that – if life gives you lemons rubbish-
When in truth you should be so lucky.
Intent on redeeming his maligned reputation, lemon cried,
” I the lemon, have all the qualities you mention,
I have Vitamin c in droves and a piquancy only appreciated by
Discerning gourmets not to mention orangeade is not a shade on lemonade.
And furthermore lemon rhymes with melon, felon and er well , well on. ”
“Oh we know all about citrus fruit,” piped apple ,
” It is well known that there is more peel than flesh,
No ifs or buts about it, apples are the king of fruits
And rhyme with crumble, mumble , tumble , fumble and
Er lots more to boot.”
Banana on hearing the word peel, was quite enraged
And cried out,” What a palaver, I think you will find that
Most people prefer banana,
After all who’s ever heard of orange porridge
And as for lemon you’re only good for lemon tarts
And apple you are just talking boring crumble
I think you will find that banana is the piranha full of mañana.”
“I beg to disagree cried orange, let me finish, what a shame,
What a fruit salad you all make, trying to rob me of my fame,
What a din, must I remind you that orange best rhymes with gin..and tonic!”
“Zest in life” well said Mia!
Thank you
And thank you to everyone here for
all the inspirational poems.
Once I met a stranger
Dressed in black and orange
Turns out he was a ranger
Who came to town to forage
He asked me for a golden ring
And took my horse to boot,
And as he left I heard him sing
They call me Robin Orange
And I haven’t seen a town
So meek and mild
As this here mount of Blorenge
A few changes. Better or worse?
Once I met a stranger,
Dressed in black and orange,
Turns out he was a ranger
Who came to town to forage.
He asked me for my golden ring
And took my wife as hostage
And as he rode my horse I heard him sing,
‘Tis best to do him homage
For they called him Robin Orange!
Then after I shot him down I wept
For now our town so meek a mild
Is known as the Mount of Blorenge.
This is more about how many times you can use the word orange rather than orange rhyming with something.
A Requiem to Orangium
Orange was quite fashionable in the eighties,
I remember orange velvet curtains and orange kaftans,
Orange sunsets and orange dinnerware;
We were told that
‘The future was bright and the future was orange’
We just had to seize the day,
But alas it turned out to be a lie
For the future is bleak and the future is tinged with grey
Smeared with the sludge of plague.
Now I think three is enough.
I am going to shut the doorange on it now.
But please don’t ask me to promise…
on the mount Blorenge
ferns that grow are named, Sporange
dusk there, shades orange
For a change I went to the Blorenge
In Ardha Padmansana with the grunge
My first out of body experience was lunge
As my soul and its passion Singe
While my mind a celestial sponge
I met talking borage
And had courage however derange
I and that world became a plunge
I kept this is my vessel’s storage.
ORANGE
The problem, it seems, is that there’s hardly a word
That isn’t plain wrong or extremely absurd
That rhymes with that fruit, with its name and its hue
It’s easy to rhyme with red, pink, green and blue
But what about orange, yes, orange I ask
For me this has been an impossible task
Porridge and Borage and lozenge aren’t right
And for weeks now I’ve tried with all of my might
But nothing is coming that isn’t absurd
I really just think that there isn’t a word
in this basket are oranges
the one for my dad is Dorange
for my mom is Morange
for my sister is Soorange
for my brother is Borange
for my grandpa is Goorange
for my grandma is Joorange
for my friend is Foorange
and one left for me is Zorange
When I say ‘orange’
Please think red!
See if you can get this,
In your head.
“It’s so simple.”
That’s what I said…
“A trip to the store,
For an apple so orange!”
Doesn’t rhyme but you inspired me nonetheless…
Chariot’s Pumpkins
Chariot is a delightful dragon,
She sits upon a healthy pumpkin patch.
She gifts them out to friends by wagon,
But sometimes puzzled by when eggs will hatch.
You see her nested eggs are orange too,
And they are mixed in with rows of pumpkins.
So sometime when she loads the wagon a few…
Of her children head to the town of Thumbkin!
The mayor did decree that all children meld,
And from this end marriages did occur.
And all prejudices so promptly fell,
Upon times, Chariot would speak her word…
“Pumpkins and children are one and the same,
‘Natures true beauty’, the name of the game!”
The Compleat Angler
Eyes peeled for wary muskellunge,
a gentle bowl of fruitless bait,
that still-life time framed by The Lake.
Sent pithy comments from the bank,
as I missed lunge, my skewer pike,
cling sodden cloth within my boots,
a sponge for wringing, plunge where sank.
Too sinking feeling, close of day,
glow fire ball in satsuma sky,
ceramic pillar, water course,
scroll down, dying, blood-red, orange.
This was published some years ago in Light:
I loose the bolt, and ope the door hinge
Looking for a rhyme for “Orange.”
I’ll hunt until at last I score, in j-
Ust the place, a rhyme for “Orange.”
’Til then I’ll, like a carnivore, ing-
Est the fruit of no more Orange.
If I start now, in April, or in J-
Une, will I have rhymed the Orange?
It’s rarer than the Koh-i-Noor in J-
Ahan’s Court, this rhyme for “Orange.”
Could it be there are no more? (In j-
Est I ask. A twin for “Orange”
Shall be found. Yes, rhymes galore in j-
Okebooks lurk to pair with “Orange.”)
I’ll find the oath that Brutus swore in J-
Ulius Caesar, ere rhyme “Orange,”
Find Poe’s Lost Lenore before ing-
Eniously I rhyme with “Orange!”
I’ve pried apart each flower’s sporange—
Still I seek the rhyme for Orange.
From the Obelisk of Gorringe
To the purple peaks of Blorenge,
Everest, McKinley, or Rinj-
Ani, I will rhyme the Orange!
But, ’til then, I won’t rest, nor enj-
Oy a tasty, un-rhymed Orange.
Wedging more and ever more enj-
Ambment, just to rhyme with “Orange.”
May I post a haiku? sorry it does not rhyme!
the sky glows orange
over a mellow orchard
-windfalls of sunshine
Not sure about the third line
perhaps this is better
The sky glows orange
Over a golden harvest
-the taste of warm bread
an orange sunset
over a verdant vineyard
the taste of sour grapes
Assonance
“It means getting the rhyme wrong.” Willy Russell, Educating Rita (1980)
Doggerel struggles with words like “month”
To a degree far greater than nth.
“Orange” we pronounce “arrange” –
An expedient change,
Rhyme scheme saved through lisps and assonanth.
Funny…
Of Flies & Sonnets.
Because it has a shape, it has a sting
with durability derived from form.
From amber circumambient, it brings
more meaning forth than first, when it was born.
Critics who swarm at them, that race of flies
whom Nature has compelled to suck a wound,
are blind to how warm feeling also dies
when feeling, made explicit, is entombed.
In resinous expression, poets know
the Limit that immures them in Its rage,
but learning “limits” urges them to go
beyond mere limits lurking on the page.
Like T. E. Lawrence, also called “E’Loranj,”
each poet is herself a rhyme for orange.
Oh strange-
Orange…
You’re fruitlessly left on your own
Living in dictionaries sans one rhyme known
Oh strange-
Orange
Sweet yet all alone is bittersweet, and still-
You are much loved before and after a-peel
Love or a-peel, isn’t needed in an Oranged marriage.
Love that! I think Ogden Nash would, too.
A Rap on “Earthtone” Orange
—borinage: noun, an “earthtone” orange
Borinage, with orange a rhyme
—a word for that “earthtone” crime
that ick upon the urban sprawl
that makes a color slowly crawl.
“High tone,” I know, they say.
I like a lively orange, anyway;
bright orange for me, a sunny smile,
beats borinage orange a country mile.
Without an apple, I set up an orange
To test my arrows and bow for range.
Dear Leland James,
I really like your poem! It is quite funny. I think the fact that you took the words orange and boring to make a nonce word was really creative!
Ever yours,
M.E.K
Everything Rhymes with Orange
Everything Rhymes with Orange,
If nothing is the rule,
It rather sounds like arrange,
Aren’t accents cool?
Everything rhymes with Orange,
With an accent see?
As long as you are foreign,
All you need is G.
Hi, all (if anyone still looks at this thread)
I just discovered this site and, homebound on a nasty day, I decided to try the “Orange Challenge”. Truth is, I am more of a punster than a poet, but here goes:
WHAT IS LIKE UNTO ORANGE?
(The Color, Not the Man)
The Holy Grail of this armchair knight
Is a mate for poor lonely oran-g-g-
Orange. (Pardon my st-stuttering)
I took the quest, not in pride nor in j-j-
Jest. (Pardon my st-stuttering)
Heedless of drought or rain; g-g-
Gee, did it rain! (Pardon my st-stuttering)
Daunted not by river nor rang-g-
Range. (Pardon my st-stuttering)
Deep I delved, blind to ore an g-g-
Gems. (Pardon my st-stuttering)
So, what is like unto ‘Orange’?
Nothing, I g-g-
Give up! (Pardon my stuttering)
Bill
Rhymes with Orange
Cheryl please stop your impatient whinge
regarding couplings with the word orange.
While, its rhyming use would lie on the fringe,
please do not let dogmatic thoughts impinge
on the creative muse; let’s instead binge
on ideas: None of us need be a stinge.
Please, lapse not into a mental twinge
or rhymes like mine,which will make you cringe.
All I can think of are:
Slant rhymes (such as “porridge,” “door hinge,” etc.)
Eye rhymes (such as “mange,” “range,” “change,” etc.)
Jabberwocky-style made-up words (an example would be “glorange,” pronounced to rhyme with orange)
Changing the word “orange” slightly (e.g., “oranger” and “porringer”)
In short, if we relax the rules, it can be done easily.
What rhymes with orange?
My 6 year old grandchild remarked the other day.
Why, another orange!
I, trying to get into the act, said, how about
finishing your porridge
with nanny in Cambridge?
Besides after breakfast, as Girl Scouts we could go out to forage!
TheresaDouldCummings & Amelia DeMagistris
(I must mangle a magnificent malted
just to wrangle a reluctant rhyme
from the playbook of petulant poets
Who have more good taste than time):
Pity the non drinking poet
Whose diction’ry never will show it
But for rhymin’ with Orange, don’t you see
The master’s choice malt is Glen mor’ang ie
And legions of Scotch drinkers know it
A bit of orange genius, Edward…
There once was a lady named Corinne,
Whose hair was a beautiful oran-
ge. It was much in demand
At farthing a strand
Or ninety-six strands for a florin.
How difficult for poems ‘orange’ is
So hard to implement into a rhyme
But if it’s done correctly; how sublime!
So maybe if I sit here pourin’ gin
and feast upon delightful porridges
and tap the table just to pass the time
The page will suddenly reveal a line
with words I got from hunts and forages
To give a rhyme a little twist or bend
is something that I just might have to do
As long as there’s no cracks or breaks or rips
then ev’rything is fine (or we’ll pretend)
Since frankly, after all, I’ve had a few
The lines are just as drunk. We’ll let it slip.
Red-faced in the red caught red-handed
The blue collar union disbanded
Their black-hearted lawyers demanded
The white collar team be left stranded
Judge Yellow Belly crossed a border
Green with envy allowed no quarter
White washed verdict on lawyers’ order
And nothing rhymes with orange
bow range is the best answer, I think
Tell Me About It
Was it an apple or an orange
that William Tell shot off his head?
Perhaps a tangerine instead,
or better yet, a ripe old melon,
exploding as the chap was yellin’.
Perhaps. It’s easier to grapple
with rhyming about that red apple.
Certainly easier than orange.
Even if standing within bow range
A piano’s stripey spine and there’s an orange:
Three oranges. Their color haloes them.
Two kinds of beauty issue forth their challenge:
A piano’s stripey spine and there’s an orange.
Music and fruit beg genius to arrange
Their sounds, their spheres, according to her whim.
A piano’s stripey spine and there’s an orange:
Three oranges. Their color haloes them.