Nice going, Jer! Poetry from you flows like a river!
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Nice going, Jer! Poetry from you flows like a river!
Many thanks, Pen. Your simile, however, reminds me of this joke:Quote:
Originally Posted by Pendragon
When the chief rabbi of the community lay dying, his disciples lined up for a last word with him. At the very end of the line, the youngest of the disciples was afraid that the rabbi might pass on before he the disciple got to speak with him, so he nudged the man just ahead of him:
"Please," he said, "ask the Rabbi, what is the meaning of life?"
The message went up the line, disciple after disciple, and finally the answer came back:
"The Rabbi says, 'Life is like a river...'"
"'Life is like a river'? I don't understand..."
Again the message went up the line and again a message came back:
"The Rabbi says, 'Life is not like a river?'"
Congratulations, Prince!
I believe you cited the Snodgrass poem to me before, and I can't remember if I ever found the name of the form, but I'll keep looking.
So far I found this:
http://www.enotes.com/april-inventor...pril-inventory
which states that the poem consists of ten 6-line stanzas, in iambic tetrameter with the rhyme scheme ababcc. At first I thought it was a Burns' stanza (a la Robert) but Robbie alternates two meters. To me, the stanza is very much like a "sestet," the second half of an Italian or Petrarchian sonnet.
My question is -- surely you don't want all of us to write a full 60 lines, do ya? (I know what you're going to say "Don't call me 'Shirley.")
No, I don't expect or require 60 lines...And I'm grateful you didn't write "Don't call me, 'Shirley."Quote:
Originally Posted by AuntShecky
Yeah, cause I don't think I can write ten six line stanzas! :ack2:
Well done Prince for being judged the winner; they were all good entries though. An enjoyable competition.
Congrads, Jer! I look forward to the next form!
Thanks, Pen, do please note that I posted info re the next form at message #715 and elaborated at #721Quote:
Originally Posted by Pendragon
I'm afraid I've been way too busy to participate. When is the deadline?
Edit: Never mind. I found it, March 21st. I might be able to sneak one in by the deadline. We'll see.
I started to answer before I saw that you had edited, but given the paucity of replies thus far, I might choose to extend it.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
We had such a good turnout for the previous round. I guess the output comes in cycles. [:lol: That last sentence sounds like engineering talk.]Quote:
Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin
Song of New Hope
When March comes in like a soft, fleecy lamb
Does it have to go out like a Lion on the prowl?
Weary of the snow and the bitter cold I am,
Ready for the North Wind to blow it’s last howl
Ready for the birdsong and flowers of Spring
I dream of their beauty when night falls each eve
Not that snow in itself is not a beautiful thing
But warmer weather will release my depression I believe
Looking each day for the buds on the trees
And trusting that Spring is coming no matter what one sees…
Time to give back clothing to the poor naked trees,
And let daisies and violets wink in the grass
Let’s trade in the cold for the warm Spring breeze
Tell Old Man Winter to cease and desist and just pass!
Already there are signs but the Lion cannot be far away
This period of sunshine may yet give way to snow
I’m thanking God for such a beautiful, lovely day
And find that new plants are beginning to show
Cheers for the passing of Winter, and the debut of Spring
Joy for new beginnings and the happiness the sun brings!
Pendragon
© March 7, 2010
Welcome to this first, graceful submission!
The days grow faster than the weeds
Rivulets reveal bulbs below
The sun glazed crystal water leads
the raft's retreat, fading spring snow,
dirt packed hard by months' frozen mass
sports shoots of flowers, despite glass
Mens' thoughts turn to forgotten love
from winter's daily drag, and grind
Romance hits thawing wits in droves
bittersweet blossoms of a bitter mind
As time melts veldt back to surface,
heart and soul take man's whole purpose.
Note: I may have laced in too much trochee... Expect a revision.
Note Note: I think that should fix the balance I was going for. Good luck everyone!
Note Note Note: I misread the requirements. I've got to shave the lines back to tetrameter... Bugger.
Thanks, krymsonking, this makes it a real contest!
Hindsight
This strange myopia of mine
weakens my view in prisms of ways.
It strains my eyes when hours shine,
with its focus on the darkest days.
I can't see my way clear enough to shake
the sight of every dumb mistake.
I see more flaws than I can count.
The list gets longer. Wrongs arrange
themselves into a steep amount.
I'm blind to faults that I could change.
And I have felt at my heart’s core
a thousand needles, maybe more.
Past peers misread Marcuse off the shelves.
Aloof, I looked at them askance.
Now wealth has claimed their former selves,
while failure long since has seized my stance.
No doubt those folks have pity to share.
(Of that, this self has plenty to spare.)
The times I squandered, wasted, spent
chasing silly dreams or foolish men!
No dough, a deadbeat with the rent:
the same old me I've always been.
I could patch my wounds with duct tape and string,
or open my eyes and look at spring.
The blackbird with his rosy stripe,
the waking frogs down in the mud,
the forsythia so eagerly ripe
to welcome its early golden bud
all show that stale old winds have blown.
I'll force an April of my own,
and with each green spear that pokes its head
up through the ground that’s soft at last,
I'll soundly spank and send to bed
all the bad winters of my past.
For spring gives me another chance
to live -– without a backward glance.
Make it hard for me, why don'tcha!
the purple crocus in their velvet coats
enfold each other tenderly as they
await the coming night, its icy notes;
spring turns its back on winter's wordplay
while my brush wordlessly conspires
to trace their downy deep desires
fingers trace the newborn baby's back; fires
that had lain dormant stir; the earth, primed for
your rebirth, makes ready loamy soil, requires
the earth stop its weary toil; the purple martin savior
is come home; sound loud the bright refrain!
that which was lost is found again.
Qimissung
The Crocus and the Martin
the purple crocus in their velvet coats
enfold each other tenderly as they
await the coming night, its icy notes;
spring turns its back on winter's wordplay
while my brush wordlessly conspires
to trace their downy deep desires
fingers trace the newborn baby's back; fires
that had lain dormant stir; the earth, primed for
your rebirth, makes ready loamy soil, requires
the earth stop its weary toil; the purple martin savior
is come home; sound loud the bright refrain!
that which was lost is found again.
Qimissung
Thanks for this latest, beautiful entry.
The icon that appears to be still there was the result of my sloppy thumb!
--
Edited by Logos to replace a thumbs down with thumbs UP icon :)
I think I found the name to a similiar verse form.
It's a sesta rima, aka the "Venus and Adonis" stanza, from the poem by Shakespeare.
http://lonestar.texas.net/~robison/more.html#sestarima
The thing is, W.D. Snodgrass's "April Inventory" is in tetrameter, not pentameter.
Well, back to the ol' drawing board -- that is, "The Google." Not today though, I'm already late in fixing the
supper.
Quote:
Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin
It's OK! I know what you mean!
I fixed it Prince
The contest closes at midnight tonight. I should be announcing the winner by noon tomorrow.
Pendragon’s “Song of New Hope” is a poignant instance of stubborn hope confronting the vicissitudes of life:
Krymson King’s “April” is a vivid example of the seasons of feeling:Quote:
Time to give back clothing to the poor naked trees,
And let daisies and violets wink in the grass
Let’s trade in the cold for the warm Spring breeze
Tell Old Man Winter to cease and desist and just pass!
AuntShecky’s “Hindsight” is a brilliant mixture of self-depreciation and stubborn sterling wit:Quote:
Mens' thoughts turn to forgotten love
from winter's daily drag, and grind
Romance hits thawing wits in droves
bittersweet blossoms of a bitter mind
Qimissung’s “The Crocus and the Martin” is glorious, seemingly effortless poetry:Quote:
The times I squandered, wasted, spent
chasing silly dreams or foolish men!
No dough, a deadbeat with the rent:
the same old me I've always been.
I could patch my wounds with duct tape and string,
or open my eyes and look at spring.
Quote:
the purple crocus in their velvet coats
enfold each other tenderly as they
await the coming night, its icy notes;
spring turns its back on winter's wordplay
while my brush wordlessly conspires
to trace their downy deep desires
And the winner is:
"The Crocus and the Martin" by Qimissung, which carries the form as lightly as a loving hand resting gently on her shoulder in the service of her characteristic lively vocabulary and unforced breath.
Congratulations to all of you and especially to Qimissung!
Thank you, Prince. I always enjoy trying new forms. I don't think I'd force myself if it wasn't for this contest. I enjoyed everyone's entries. Krymson Kyng, AuntShecky, and Pendragon are all dear and worthy "opponents!"
Let's try our hand at the sonnet, that most worthy of poetic forms. You can read a little about sonnets here:
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5791
and here:
http://www.online-literature.com/for...6417&goto=prev
These are six blog entries by Red-Headed, and he did an excellent job of describing the sonnet and it's various types. I make no distinction among them, only that you try to outdo yourself and make it sing.
Here is another place to read about sonnets. It gets right to the point with an easy description of the form one should use when writing one, with links on how to write one in the style of either Shakespeare, Petrarch, or a modern version.
http://www.ehow.com/how_3335_write-sonnet.html
Here is an example of a sonnet by Petrarch:
http://www.ajdrake.com/e252_fall_04/...petrarchan.htm
And one by Shakespeare:
http://www.albionmich.com/inspiratio...ndisgrace.html
You can, of course, find more of Shakespeare's sonnets here at litnet:
http://www.online-literature.com/for...lay.php?f=5613
Good luck, and have fun.
N’est-çe Pas
Somewhere there’s music playing on beat-up guitar,
Singer is a homeless man praying he can get enough to eat.
Long ago he answered to his country’s call and went to war.
He’s got a nice purple heart for bravery but he’s on the street.
Another man from another city who did two tours of duty in Vietnam.
Came back home and found hostility due to insane Lieutenants over there.
In doing his duty, he lost an arm and an eye, but they don’t understand.
It just takes a couple bad apples to rot the whole barrel anywhere.
With patriotic fever he went off to where they sent him, no questions.
Cause he was red, white, and blue right down to his heart.
Then his son was born with no arms and they have no suggestions.
Things like that can pull the biggest patriot boy apart.
They that live by the sword one day are gonna die by the same sword:
And seems to me, child, we’ve come a long, long way from Valley Forge…
Pendragon
Wow! Thanks for the first entry, Pendragon. With those last tow lines you hit this blues infused sonnet right out of the park!
What's the deadline?
The contest deadline will be April 12, 2010.
No Restraints, No Strings
You know that value marched aloud in song,
the one not gained until “we” bravely fought
with blood, the only gold with which it’s bought?
Well, ev’ry blessed thing we're told is wrong.
Like children, well-behaved, we played along.
Its truth veers off from the way we're taught:
that it’s kept captive --as if been caught --
let out to air at times with felons’ throng.
Real liberty’s no lady. It won't grab
on a cause, won't cheer, or don a shirt of brown;
defies detection in both sky and sea.
How fast it skitters, quicksilver on a slab!
No frame will hold, for nowhere can be found
a clue: at large, uncaged, in charge, and free.
This is so beautiful, AuntShecky. Thank you for joining the party with this lovely entry.
The Tin Woodman
A lumberjack should know nothing of loss
but that coward witch taught ol' Nick Chopper
replacement parts can only go so far.
Now my tin wears thin beneath vines and moss.
To be made of clockwork and love no more
To be entrapped by rusted over limbs
These branches! My wooden prison condemns
my heart, my heart, decayed by rain, my core
A bit of oil looses my aching joints.
Could this girl's wizard finish my repairs?
I muster not even halfhearted hope
Toward a city of emerald our road points
They say the path belongs to him who dares
Take heart, take heart you metal misanthrope.
Ps. AuntShecky That was awesome! Great unity of idea and form, given the restrictions of a sonnet.
Oh, wonderful, krymsonkyng! Thank you. I love "The Wizard of Oz."
Thank ya kindly qimissung!
This contest is now closed. I will be back with the results, hopefully this weekend. Thank you Pendragon, AuntShecky, and KrymsonKing, for your entries.
I would, first off, like to thank Pendragon, auntShecky, and KrymsonKyng for entering this contest and taking on the somewhat daunting feat of writing a sonnet. I have written a few myself. I'm not saying they're any good, just that, in writing at least, I try not to ask of others what I have not attempted myself.
All the entries were fine ones. Pendragon, I liked your downhome, touching homily to veterans. There is, unfortunately, so much truth in what you wrote. I actually recently visited a homeless shelter and while there spoke briefly to a vet who was seeking shelter for the night.
AuntShecky wrote on a similar theme, liberty. You "captured" very well the elusive quality of Lady Liberty. As KrymsonKyng said, "Great unity of idea and form." I agree.
Krysonkyng, yours isn't too shabby either. Your clever phrases do so much more than sum up the tin woodman's story. I love that last line, "Take heart, take heart you metal misanthrope."
But the winner is
AuntShecky!
You had me at "but liberty's no lady" and your concluding lines
"How fast it skitters, quicksilver on a slab!
No frame will hold, for nowhere can be found
a clue: at large, uncaged, in charge, and free."
Love the internal rhyme, and how you strive to delineate this most visceral ideal. Well done, AuntShecky.
Please choose the next form for us.
Called it ;) Great work everybody, especially Aunty!
Thank you Pendragon and KrymsonKyng for entering this contest, and thank you qimissung for selecting this.
I'm honored to choose the next form which will be an English variation of the rondeau called the "roundel." Here's how you make a roundel--it sounds complicated, but it really isn't.
-The poem is only 11 lines long with only 2 rhymes in three stanzas of 4, 3, and 4 lines.
-Lines # 4 and #11 consist of a refrain which repeats the poem's opening word or phrase.
-The refrain (R) may be rhymed with lines #2,#5, #7, and #9.
-The rhyme scheme is this:
abaR bab abaR
You can see the pattern with this poem by A.C. Swinburne, titled, appropriately enough, "Roundel":
A roundel is wrought as a ring or a star-bright sphere,
With craft of delight and with cunning of sound unsought,
That the heart of the hearer may smile if to pleasure his ear
A roundel is wrought.
It's jewel of music is carven of all or of aught--
Love, laughter, or mourning --remembrance of rapture or fear-
That fancy may fashion to hang in the ear of thought.
As a bird's quick song runs sound, and the hearts in us hear --
Pause answers to pause, and again the same strain caught,
So moves the device whence, round as a pearl or tear,
A roundel is wrought.
See? Not so hard. I really believe that LitNutters can rise to the roundel challenge. I'm also stipulating that the topic be a cheerful one.
Get your pencils and keyboards going and post an original roundel any time between now and May 10. Hope we get numerous entries!
{NOTE: After I read the notice from one of the moderators that she preferred the last day for entries in the poetry contests be closer to the 10th of the month. This way the winner won't escape mention in the newsletter!}