Just a reminder that your Triolets for the Form Poetry Contest are due May 7th :seeya:
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Just a reminder that your Triolets for the Form Poetry Contest are due May 7th :seeya:
My skills are lacking when it comes to typing poetry that requires a strict form/rhyming scheme. I'll try my best though.Quote:
Originally Posted by Melanie
The Masturbator
by Adol09
I, a mere vessel of pure-rought flesh,
trick'd by wind to greet sin's shore,
Fear was the grain I strived to thresh
I, a mere vessel of pure-rought flesh
My soul rusted from iron mesh,
My youth, now a remnant of lore
I, a mere vessel of pure-rought flesh,
trick'd by wind to greet sin's shore
Today is the last day for your Triolet Poem entries (5/7). The contest will close at midnight and the winner announced tomorrow (5/8).
The Great Destroyer
Oh, craft of spirit, form of brain
Your infernal hands, they tremble.
Oh, many a village burnt and slain
Oh, craft of spirit, form of brain
Your miracles bring only pain,
our lost, your soldiers resemble.
Oh, craft of spirit, form of brain
Your infernal hands, they tremble.
Congratulations to EVERYONE for successfully using the Triolet form of poetry with apparent ease! I was particularly impressed with how everyone crafted their first two lines in such a skillful way as to be able to enjoy it's repetition throughout the poem.
Pendragon...The sensitivity with which you treated an emotional subject, and the encouragement you offered makes this poem special to me. I thought your first two lines were well penned and flowed effectively from beginning, middle, and end.
YesNo...I love a poem that challenges my intellect. I'm aware of some Mayan facts but I had to research this "deadly art". As harsh and uncomfortable as it was to read of the red blood of human sacrifice and the odd practice of painting the body, it was equally intriguing to read about the beautifully intense color of Maya Blue that you so skillfully contrasted to the red color in your poem. As an art lover, I was awed by the hue of Maya Blue. Very well done.
Dark Muse...This is so tender that it reads like a soothing lullaby. It's such a lovely poem.
Adolescent09...Yes, I do like an unexpected element in a poem and you certainly delivered! After picking my jaw up off the floor (i'm no spring chicken you know), I must say that I always enjoy your originality and poetic delivery. Oh, and your unabashed honesty in this one.
Grit...You have added so much to this contest...I'm glad you made it in time! I really like your second line and it makes a powerful repeated line at the end. Very effective.
Congratulations to Pendragon!
Thanks, Melanie
Someone on this forum once did me the honor of calling me "The King of the Villanelle" So we will go with that form for this contest. As a reminder of the form, here is one of mine:
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.”
© 10/6/97 D L Harris
Due date end of May. Good luck as always, and God Bless
Pen
Right now he can't remember why he's here,
So should he go along or should he stray?
Did someone drop him off? Are they still near?
Is there some ancient monster he should fear?
Was there a hidden debt he couldn't slay?
Right now he can't remember why he's here.
What are these stories telling him that we're
Entangled in enchanted disarray?
Did someone drop him off? Are they still near?
What is the date? He can't recall the year
When everything made sense enough to pray.
Right now he can't remember why he's here.
He climbs above the clouds so he can peer
Below and search--for what? He can't recall today.
Did someone drop him off? Are they still near?
Perhaps upon this mountain there's a seer
Who has a map that illustrates the way.
Right now he can't remember why he's here.
Did someone drop him off? Are they still near?
Your Storm Gray Love
I become lost in your shades of gray,
eyes like the storm of the rapture in my heart,
hold me fast before I can drift away.
How can I ask you to forever stay?
wandering the shoals with fear you may depart,
I become lost in your shades of gray.
Night begins to close heralding the day
and I am left pierced at the end of your dart,
hold me fast before I can drift away.
Through the fog have we found our way?
Are there words enough that my love I may impart?
I become lost in your shades of gray.
How lovely on your face the shadows play,
in this soft light there must be a place to restart,
hold me fast before I can drift away.
May the waters bring you back without delay,
washed upon my shore never will I let you break apart,
I become lost in your shades of gray,
hold me fast before I can drift away.
Anymore entries? I will give you until Wednesday! Then, announce a winner.
Ah, Darkmuse, you just edged out Yesno by a fraction. Both wonderful poems, congrats to you both! DarkMuse, you're up!
Oh, thank you, I will have the new form shortly
Ok next form is Rondelet
The Rondelet is a French form consisting of a single septet with two rhymes and one refrain: AbAabbA. The capital letters are the refrains, or repeats. The refrain is written in tetra-syllabic or dimeter and the other lines are twice as long - octasyllabic or tetrameter.
Examples can be found here: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/rondelet.html
Tentative deadline is June 25
Spring has gone.
High summer drowns the fresh spring air.
Spring has gone
And my love, too, has long moved on.
Where did she go? Who knows? Somewhere.
Since she's no longer smiling there
Spring has gone.
A Quiet Ride In the Country
Along the back-roads
Scenic routes are always lovely
Along the back-roads
Friendship blooms and love always grows
Friendly faces, lovely places, serenity
No city crowds, no voices loud, just peace
Along the back-roads
(C) Pendragon 6/7/2013
A Rondelet of Patterns
Patterns are healing
To know sunshine will follow rain
Patterns are healing
While a peaceful snowflake allures
Seasons assure no frost remains
Nature's balance man must sustain
Patterns are healing