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Scheming Rhymes

Formal poetry is a beautiful art getting lost in the digital age. Let's write and learn about it to keep it alive!

Newsletter · By Brooklyn Crane · Official site

Indexed issues, last 90 days
12
Latest publication
Sep 28, 2026
Audience
Checking…
Earliest in this view
Jul 29, 2026

Latest issues

  1. Issue · Sep 28, 2026

    Haiku: Madness in Autumn. (opens the original)

    Excerpt

  2. Issue · Sep 23, 2026

    Your Wings & Mine. (opens the original)

    Excerpt · Neutral tone

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    Cranes have been some of my favorite birds for a very long time. I have a special relationship with their symbolism and what they mean to me. This poem is the namesake of Mine, my newest self-published poetry book.Here’s my own voiceover for the poem—human-made, not AI-generated:Poem text.We’re tasting freedom in the rain.Amid the waters crystallineand flurries of a hurricane,we fly as cranes where currents twine.Your feathers soar in this domainas thunde

  3. Issue · Sep 14, 2026

    The Death of Summer. (opens the original)

    Excerpt · Neutral tone

  4. Issue · Sep 9, 2026

    I cannot even die. (opens the original)

    Excerpt · Critical tone

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    My birth was a difficult one, and my life, though privileged in many ways, has often been harsh—if at least to my mental health. This poem comes from that place, and I hope you don’t relate at all.CONTENT WARNING: MILD SUICIDAL IDEATION!Here’s my own voiceover for the poem—human-made, not AI-generated:Poem text.Purple-born and hardly breathing.Was I only meant to die? For my heart was barely beating,and I couldn’t even cry.It’s my cord that I wa

  5. Issue · Sep 2, 2026

    The Scent of Sorcery. (opens the original)

    Excerpt · Neutral tone

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    You’ve caught me red-handed. I love occult romance—or at least pretending that everyday things are much more than they really are. This poem comes from Mine, the newest of my self-published books, on love.Here’s my own voiceover for the poem—human-made, not AI-generated:Poem text.The table’s set with wines.The room’s alight—the lair—and patterned with designsof nigh-demonic flair,where ever-stretching vineshave bound me to a

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