Wow - thank you. I'm delighted and slightly astonished.
Give me a couple of days and I'll start a new one.
M
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Wow - thank you. I'm delighted and slightly astonished.
Give me a couple of days and I'll start a new one.
M
Congratulations Mark!
Congratulations Mark!
One of my oft-expounded beliefs about art is that form matters. The restrictions of form inspire invention.
There was a time when a painter would be commissioned to paint, say, an altarpiece. And there are rules for that. It's got to have a religious subject; it has to be a very specific size and shape; it has to be viewable, even from the cheap seats at the back. And the great artists could fulfil all that and still make something that satisfied their own creative impulse, something that kept the client happy but also said what the artist wanted to say. That's not selling your soul - that's working brilliantly.
My contention is that it's the tension between specification and inspiration that makes art.
So, the game...
A villanelle is a really tight, restrictive format, in terms of metre, structure and length.
Nineteen lines, two rhymes, a regular metre (which must be consistent, whatever it is). There are two repeated lines, which always occur in the same places.
Wikipedia describes the structure like this:
The essence of the fixed modern form is its distinctive pattern of rhyme and repetition. The rhyme-and-refrain pattern of the villanelle can be schematized as
A1 b A2 (stanza 1, three lines)
a b A1 (stanza 2, three lines)
a b A2 (stanza 3, three lines)
a b A1 (stanza 4, three lines)
a b A2 (stanza 5, three lines)
a b A1 A2 (stanza 4, four lines)
where letters ("a" and "b") indicate the two rhyme sounds, upper case indicates a refrain ("A"), and superscript numerals (1 and 2) indicate Refrain 1 and Refrain 2.
...Which sounds complicated, but it's more easily understood when you see it.
Here's a famous one.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
Another one - same structure, same form.
Discovering my orbit in your eyes,
I’ll focus there and dare it.
My love, I wouldn’t wish it otherwise.
Though once a spectacle in my disguise,
I’m naked now, I swear it,
Discovering my orbit in your eyes.
Eclipsed, revealed, freed and circumscribed,
I’ll steal your light and share it.
My love, I wouldn’t wish it otherwise.
The Old World in a new circumference lies.
By some rare cusp, I merit
Discovering my orbit in your eyes.
Struck blind by what I feared to visualise,
I’ll name it. I’ll declare it
My love. I wouldn’t wish it otherwise.
I’ve blinked at fear before, in other lives,
But this time I’ll out-stare it.
My love, I wouldn’t wish it otherwise,
Discovering my orbit in your eyes.
So, two lines repeated exactly, though possibly punctuated differently, and only two rhymes, and a tight metre.
A challenge, yes. If no one likes it, we'll do a limerick. (Though they're a lot more difficult than they look, too.)
Let's give the best part of a month for this. Deadline: March 31st
Patience
Stay steady through the falling rain
As stormy weather haunts the spring.
Calm patience doesn't pass on pain.
Those failures that disturb the brain
Will spoil results no one can bring.
Stay steady through the falling rain.
Harsh words will make the spirit drain
With scorn that wants to stick and sting.
Calm patience doesn't pass on pain.
Decaying dreams will ever stain
And stop the voice that longs to sing.
Stay steady through the falling rain.
When screams erupt the ears will strain
For peace but hear a heartless ring.
Calm patience doesn't pass on pain.
So should the day drench hope of gain
And you are blamed for everything,
Stay steady through the falling rain.
Calm patience doesn't pass on pain.
He left his things behind
and headed out the door,
starting fresh and blind.
She didn't seem to mind,
she'd seen his kind before;
he left his things behind.
Their time was undefined,
nothing less and nothing more,
starting fresh and blind.
Their time was intertwined
as waves approached the shore;
he left his things behind.
The note was left unsigned
and fell upon the floor;
starting fresh and blind.
Time is never kind
revealing what's in store.
He left his things behind,
starting fresh and blind.
POE
The waves wash upon some forgotten shore,
The wind sighs softly among the gnarled trees.
Somewhere a dark bird croaks “Nevermore,”
From his perch upon a bust of Pallas above the chamber door.
The dark clouds split and the heavens bleed.
The waves wash upon some forgotten shore,
As a wild-eyed man searches for his lost Lenore,
Calling out; desperately expressing his needs!
Somewhere a dark bird croaks “Nevermore,”
In tones of Doom as the man implores
The Unforgiving Heavens to return his dreams.
The waves wash upon some forgotten shore,
The beach where she’d played in the days of yore—
He turns to the bottle, trying to drown his needs.
Somewhere a dark bird croaks “Nevermore,”
And the echoes echo the name “Lenore…”
He traces her name on the tombstone as he reads.
The waves wash upon some forgotten shore,
And somewhere a dark bird croaks “Nevermore.”
Pendragon
Um, judge, please
Don't we have until the 31st March ?
Yeah - a few days yet.
Would be nice to see more entries. This form is interesting.
Indeed it is! But no one has posted for some time. I fear that people do not participate in our many contests. Sad, really, because we have so many fine poets!Quote:
Originally Posted by jajdude
Alas, the beating heart has caught aflame;
The world is shaking with its strangled cries
And suffocated is the Beast in shame.
Like lions running wild and free, untamed,
To own this Creature is the greatest prize.
Alas, the beating heart has caught aflame.
The children temp its teeth with wicked games,
Their fragile forms like dancers in its eyes,
And suffocated is the Beast in shame.
The hunger claws its face, always the same
With prinpricks clogging up the empty skies;
Alas, the beating heart has caught aflame.
It looks around and sees no one to blame
As murdered suns like blood stains start to rise,
And suffocated is the Beast in shame.
It's bleeding from a vileness with no name
As all around, each raindrop falls and dies;
Alas, the beating heart has caught aflame
And suffocated is the Beast in shame.
Thank you, entrants.
The poems were all disciplined, structurally and, on the whole, metrically. And there was an interesting range of subject matter - some of which hooked me and some of which didn't.
What won it was the natural rhythms and structures of jajdude's language. It was an unusual metre for a villanelle (there are conventions on that, but no 'rule'), which supported the short line. And there was a sort of limpid simplicity to the theme too, which made that entry stand out.
I', surprised but thanks Mark. OK, for some reason, god knows why, I have to keep the entertainment on the sea here. I am a lazy man so I'm not up to looking up forms, they have rules and stuff and those hurt my head.
What I will suggest is a "fading poem". No doubt this form already exists somewhere out there in form universe, so who cares.
First line has, I dunno, let's say seven or more words, and each subsequent line removes a word from the previous one until at last we have one word, so make it good. I will judge harshly since that is fun, right?
Example I have to make up now:
The dog is eating the beans on the shelf.
On the shelf the dog is eating beans.
The dog is eating on the shelf.
On the shelf is the dog.
The dog is the shelf.
The shelf is dog.
Dog is shelf.
Shelf is.
Shelf.
Damn, this looks hard, but good luck and have fun you 4 or 5 people who take part in this.
We are past the middle point of life
Are past the middle point of life
Past the middle point of life
The middle point of life
Middle point of life
Point of life
Of life
Life...
Pendragon
(c) 2012
The flowers like to bloom in spring
To the flowers: bloom in spring
In spring the flowers bloom
Flowers bloom in spring
Spring flowers bloom
Flowers bloom
Bloom
But for death, we would never truly live.
For death, we would never truly live.
For death would never truly live.
For death, never truly live.
Death, never truly live.
Death, never live.
Death, live.
Live.
The moon is new, a cloudless night, in awe we whispered Les étoiles !
Moon is new, a cloudless night, in awe we whispered Les étoiles !
New is a cloudless night, in awe we whispered Les étoiles !
New, a cloudless night, in awe we whispered Les étoiles !
A cloudless night, in awe we whispered Les étoiles !
Cloudless night, in awe we whispered Les étoiles !
Night. In awe we whispered Les étoiles !
In awe we whispered Les étoiles !
Awe. We whispered Les étoiles !
We whispered Les étoiles !
Whispered Les étoiles !
Les étoiles !
Étoiles !
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
Hi jajdudeQuote:
Originally Posted by jajdude
are we allowed to have different lines everytime like this but still keep with the style?
it appeared from somewhere
it was something
it went
nowhere
I'm not sure cacian, but if you write something impressive no one will mind.
The parent of the child is a child
The child is a parent of child
Of the child is a parent
The parent is a child
Child is the parent
The parent child
The child
Child
Impressive haha...just normal..OK thank you:pQuote:
Originally Posted by jajdude
Embers Burning
His eyes were burning embers to inflame my soul
embers burning his eyes to inflame my soul
embers inflame my soul, his burning eyes
my embers inflame his burning soul
burning embers inflame his soul
his soul burning embers
his embers burning
burning embers
burning.
I don't know how to comment on these. Now I forget which ones I like. It was an odd form, not a common one. I'd never heard of it, but was sergeant to present one.
Pendragon and moonbird both stand out for me as strong pieces. I'm going with pendragon though I'd like to give ya both a tie, as moon had a solid work. I liked that pen simply subtracted a word each time. That gave it an edge. moonbird's work was good though/
all in my opinion of course
So, congrats to Pendragon, and we'll see what comes next.
Congrats, Pendragon! And thank you for your comments, jajdude.
Thank you very much. I'm going to leave this wide open by using a free-verse, non-rhyming poem. The catch is it must begin with a thought and work through the poem to finish with the same line. Length doesn't matter, but I would much prefer at least eight. Good luck and God bless!
Stopping Forever and Starting the Universe
Once upon a time it all began.
It started from what might have been a chill from the Endless Everlasting Void
from which the beasts who feasted sprang from nothing all-to-eager to be fed.
Some say a hero finally came and stopped the heartless nonsense, the endless eating and the waste.
Some always say more than they ever could have known and get a fraction of it right.
Fools insist on love. They always will. They're sweet, if you could only swallow them.
All that matters is the eating had to stop when time popped out so you could breathe.
And that is why we're here to bring you one more story, one more lusty lie, one more teasing truth to dress your dreams
that keep you from the nothing of the night since
once upon a time it all began.
Lament of Firstborns
In this measured world
Of numbers and pride,
Singers hum no notes,
Poets read no metaphors
But wail anguish and woes
Of the grieving firstborns
Against unwanted birth
In this measured world.
Dreaming Darkly
Drink deeply and dream
upon the midnight hour, amongst trembling shadows,
softly, softly, in silence may darkness descend,
sanguine lips succulently hunger for the eternal kiss,
sleep never more, as tragic lovers interlocked in death's embrace.
be not still but to thrive within beauty immortalized,
a gasping breath in pure ecstasy, a crimson flush on satin skin,
everlasting bliss arising from the ashes of prolonged agony,
now in dawn's first awakening, as the fires begin to light the sky
drink deeply and dream....
I have to give this one to... DARKMUSE! Congrats
Thank you!
I will get thinking on what the next form should be
I am going to go with an old favorite of mine, the Ghazal.
The Ghazal is usually made up of at least 5 and typically no more than 15 couplets. Each couplet should be able to stand on its own as its own individual poem. Each line of the poem should be the same length, but in English meter is not imposed. The last couplet
usually refers to the poets signature (name or pen name or some derivation of the names meaning ) and refers to the poet in the third or first person .
There is a refrain of one to three words, and an inline rhyme that precedes the refrain.
Some examples:
http://www.cranberrydesigns.com/poet...l/examples.htm
The bright days of gladness, obscured by dark depression
Is the only answer to give in to violence and aggression?
Trying to paint another life is quite a good suggestion
It's hard to force the brush from the hand of dark depression
Color introduced can make dark shadows lessen
But darkest grey is on the brush in the hand of cold depression
The anger builds, the volcano grows, explosion of aggression
Can I do naught to block the cursed spread of deep depression?
Ah, Pen, poor fool, your anger burns, but fueled by hot aggression
Draw strength from it's fire and fight the spread of bitter, cold depression
Pendragon
(C) 4/10/2012
Cherie
When you're that mad with me my sun won't rise, Cherie.
I'm somber begging rain to clear the skies, Cherie.
Those oaks befriending maples in the park
Are shamed and shocked to hear your heartless lies, Cherie.
Some stars might help to guide our wayward souls
But none of them now leads me from these cries, Cherie.
Till winds can take my ashes to the bay
My heart still lives yet while it's aching dies, Cherie.
Your slave's too long enchanted with this pain.
Unfriendly hope gains stronger wings and flies, Cherie.
Wrap my shoulders in soft arms of a lover.
Heal my wounds with the charms of a lover.
Drown me in daisies so I may discover
The torturous pious bouquet of a lover.
Twisted in circles like the gaze of lost brothers,
Lose my mind in the maze of a lover.
With God as my witness, I shall glance at no other.
My eyes shall not stray from the dance of my lover.
Let pain be my savior, for no heart has suffered
As the vulnerable moon-shadowed heart of a lover.
Gazelle, by tailor STATELY
The savanna teems with wildlife in abundance
amidst the stridulations of insects in their abundance
The gazelle flourishes in her niche in the circle of life
where grass is easy to find, and mates are in abundance
Still. One must be wary; for the lion reaps while others sow
and other predators are in watch amongst the abundance
The tick seeks its prey, albeit more haphazardly, in wait
for the first warm- blooded creature; there is a great abundance
And the Tick-Tick bird rides about on the herds that mingle
together raising a low dust on the rift-valley floor of abundance
And so, tailor, we see a microcosm at work in harmony
where the dung beetle reigns as king, even as we, in abundance
5/24/2012
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
Thank you all for your entries. I thought you all did a great job with it, and there was a tough call.
Pendragon: As always a perfectly well crafted poem. I love the depth of emotion of it. It was quite evocative, and you did have one of my favorite incorporations of your name within the last verse. Well done, always a pleasure to read.
YesNo: I really enjoyed reading your poem. There was some great imagery and I found the opening line really grabbed my attention and made me want to keep reading. I quite enjoyed your use of Cherie as the repletion, for some reason it also made me think of Pairs in the 1920s.
moonbird: You had some beautiful imagery in your poem. I particularly enjoyed the line "My eyes shall not stray from the dance of my lover." I also found the concept of the poem interesting. I loved the last line and thought your use of the your name in the poem was beautifully done.
And the winner is.......
tailor STATELY: I loved the vivid image you created of the African savanna, it evoked many of my different senses, which is something I always enjoy in my poem and made the scene really come to life in my mind. I thought it had a great atmosphere and I thought it was rather clever. Also I quite enjoyed the nature theme of this poem.
Thank you Dark Muse!
I'll be back a bit later this evening (PDT) with the new form.
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
Let's try this again (my browser blew up when I hit Preview Post the first time).
☻ New form Zejel (or Zahal):
☻ Syllable Count: Usually 8-syllables per line.
☻ A triplet starts the poem establishing the linking rhyme with the end line of the following quatrains.
☻ Use at least 2-quatrains; more is fine.
Rhyme Scheme:
a a a ................. Triplet
b b b a............... Quatrain1
c c c a............... Quatrain2
More info: http://rainbowcommunications.org/forms/Zejel.pdf
This is a relatively easy form - so use your imagination; and
End Date set for 10 days 6/18/2012
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY