Three poems to serenade Monday

Absconding Muse


My muse blew a fuse
Without excuse fealty did recuse
In jilting fashion without compassion
Tendered passion did stingily ration
Lofty discourse from pen did divorce
With no remorse absconded every resource
My inspiration turned to perspiration
Hopeless itinerant somewhat penitent
The bartered lexicon I did recon
A vagrant shill seeking to rill
The run-off spill pages to fill
A pilfered title would move engine from idle
An embezzled theme would ideas stream
A trite rhyme would be sublime
A pawned metaphor to open the door
A brokered simile; a borrowed metonymy
Would re-collect the literary dialect
Now shorn from mind so forlorn



Dormant Seed

A solitary kernel for lack of succoring nurture aggrieved
From sun's warm caresses seasonally bereaved
With wind's chilling strides constantly plucked, heaved
Lying on fallowed ground whose cloak now desleaved
With frigid mantle over frostbitten spine weaved
Nutrient-rich pores of their cultivating provender relieved
As brittle husk to its fibrous moorings tightly cleaves
So coarse grains to earthen crevices, pockets sheathed
Dormant, but from bludgeoned shell will not secede
Nor future's bountiful harvest deed
A sparse, unfurnished bed temporarily bequeathed
Until providentially-rendered elements have new life breathed
Still yet, creator hath numbered all and due rations perceived
Until Spring's availing tides have Winter's corroded channels reprieved
And life's, generating tenants from their frozen prisons freed






Nyx's Panoramic Veil


On twilight's sinking bridge, Nyx's waves swell
With an ethereal wand casts, dark, bewitching spell
O'er dark crevasse, spreads her enchanting veil
A glittering panorama of lights ballasts infinity
Moonbeams, star streams, and planet gleams form trinity
With blipping dots, beeping dashes, cosmic dust brailles
Heavenly bodies over the dark streams parasail
Orion's silted bow the fiery bastions doth assail
Kneeling, Hercules with glowing club o'er dragon doth flail
Pleiades's gaudy sisters in blue-sequined dresses luminosity scale
Virgo's virgins spawn into egg; sterility to efface
Pisces's forked fish tails lock, damming each, corroded face
Aquarius's stout water pail brimming with charms to engrace
Ursa Major's silver ladle dips deep into briny well
Ursa Minor's frail oyster spoon dips into pale ale
The Southern Cross's interceding lines point to holy grail

Requite My Love

If you fear an inappropriate tryst
In Day's, bright light will subsist
If attendance to your whims is remiss
In return, pare only one, endearing kiss
If my address too awkwardly I press
Only the passionate syllables stress
If my aimless loitering you detest
Grant each day but one, solitary egress
If sanctimonious attitude does distress
Let charitable heart duller traits bless
If beaming eyes, shapely figure molests
Focus my stare on your stately crest
If my squeaky voice your nerves test
I'll drown the variation with lemon zest
If feigned loyalty, I laboriously confess
My lips with time's shadow compress
If from my wit, sentient mind does desist
Only time-tested Limericks will enlist

Wild Flower

Your spores, seeds not gratuitously panned
Randomly disbursing; o'er dale, hill fanned
In due season, without preening hand
In quilted colonies, shroud the hinterland

No cultivating touches o'er clandestine strand
No manicured plot o'er uncultured roots spanned
No bridled station your space to remand
In tidy rows you'll never band

No gilded plot, burnished borders to withstand
In unfettered, raw beauty o'er pristine vistas expand
No decorative vase your value to brand,
Or vaunted dais imperiously grand
***

Powwder, Perfume, Hormones


Neck a smooth cylindrical mold
As sheathe with fibers carefully rolled
Pale, satin sheen artfully scrolled
Grace on soft silky strands doled
In light, silted hologram to behold
Calamus breathes through each fold
Herbal essence from tight pores cajoled

Swabbed cheeks cloud high cheek bone
Naturally brushed with light coppertone
Puffy mounds rise from savory scone
Cherry gum drops brim o'er mascarpone
Cherubic glow of a polished sandstone
Exuding savory Rose scent laced with pheromone
Nature's stimulants a nurtured love to hone

Bosom, gilded vines on terraced grove
Sprouting cherries, fertile arrow of Jove
Dangling from chest sealing frothy trove
Coarse sifted mounds, plump kneaded loaves
Descending into a deep, musky cove
U-shaped funnel vents steaming stove
Releasing mellow aroma of a sweet clove

Bartered Quill



Considering me a talented, aspiring shill
My muse loaned me a feathery quill
Brokering her wisdom, leasing her skill
With embroidered frills each barb with beauty did distill
Lithographer's vision, a graceful dividend to reveal*
Depreciating vane my artistic license to *bill
Hollow shaft gilded so her availing light could the vacuum fill
Inky reservoir with inspiration did instill
A deep well with literary devices did rill
Ideas streaming from strained cavity to the mind's tip with zeal *
Burnished hues, sharp tones aesthetic notions to congeal
A precision valve appended vagaries to swill
An automated inkblot defibrillating patterns to spill


**
**
** * **

Civil War Battlefield: Cry of the Fallen



Rigors of weary battle long abated
The haze and smoke linger; the fallen obfuscated
Ignominiously deposited; in death's unseemly clutches graded
Gradually emanating from the debacles' debris taut, ghastly forms emaciated
Battle's residual fodder on spent ground masqueraded
With the accoutrement's of nature and nurture now attenuated
Unrequited carcases posthumously paraded
Only the malingering sun palls the hulls now jaded
At dusk, dark shadows girdle the remnants of slaughter dated
Anon, with the eery sounds of bewitching night serenaded
Death's awning a patchwork of gleaming stars cascaded
By bleary, mortal shadows in quilted tents shaded
Waiting for morn's truce, their valor with honor to be equated

Winter Woodland

Winter's icy streams funnel low
Frosty beams on pine needles glow
A menacing wind seeps through thatched window
Below, fibrous carpet cloaked with satin plateau
Snowy wood with furry dander doth flow
Mule deer nestle with fatty reserves in tow
Wild boars root 'neath the milky tallow
Red foxes scavenge for prey along the hedgerow*
Pensive hares prat through the silken meadow
Black bears take shelter in sleepy hollow
Sparring woodchucks bristle in the frothy undertow
Spotted owls reconnoiter each frozen crevice, sealed burrow
Orange-breasted sparrows their winter anthem bellow
Jittery squirrels scurry about searching for nutty escrow

You stated three and ended with more....less is more. It is hard to take them all in when delivered all at once. Take a deep breath and enjoy the week.

Kittypaws

I have to admit I only read the last one from first to last word and found it so overwritten and artificially old-fashioned that I didn't get much meaning out of it. Well, it's a description of a winter wonderland, as you did warn, but otherwise, I was hit on the head with too many adjectives. And I really overdosed on rhyme, I'm afraid, and on rather bumpy ones, too. I wouldn't rhyme glow with window as you wouldn't stress that word on "-dow" but on "win-" (correct me if I'm mistaken), and that's only something a bad French pop-singer would dare do.
Just for the fun of it, I thereafter read only the rhyme words of the other poems and asked myself—why o why do you so insist in throwing those clumsy rhymes together? I'm sure that if you scraped them off, there might be a poem hidden somehwere…

Dieter rhyming glow with window is rhyming two, long 'o' words. Check out some of the poems on the scholarly literature sites, and you will find many more exaggerated, tortured rhymes. That is a natural rhyme. If you don't like good rhyming poetry, then don't read my poems. I have yet to see any good rhyming poems on this site, so you will not have to go far!

Thank goodness this isn't a 'scholarly literature site' in that case. These are unreadable, so your request 'don't read my poems' will at least be cheerfully met.

I also have yet to see (m)any good rhyming poems on this site because for the most part rhyme is generally used by aspiring poets who believe it is necessary for a poem to rhyme. Your efforts here ^^^ would tend to disprove that erroneous theory. There's so much more to poetry than rhyme.

H

I absolutely agree that there is more to poetry than rhyme. I like to read other types of poetry. Your aversion to rhyme takes all your objectiveness away, so that's why I asked you not to read my poetry. If you want to critique the content in a meaningful manner, then fill free to read.

I don't see any aversion to rhyme in Hillwalker's comments. I agree with DieterM.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by cafolini

I don't see any aversion to rhyme in Hillwalker's comments. I agree with DieterM.

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Absolutely correct. I don't have an aversion to rhyme. I have written several poems that rhyme - and posted them on here.
What I have an aversion to is bad rhyme - and forced rhyme where syntax is deformed purely to have a word that rhymes appear at the end of each line.

But fear not - I'll not be offering any more feedback on your work.

H

Where are the forced rhymes in the poems? The words absolutely fit within their respective lines. You call it forced, because you do not like end rhyme or monorhyme. If you do not like it, then I am alright with that. You have your own preferences. My end rhymes are not jingly or nursery-rhymish. The end rhyme words have meaning and are as functional as the other words in the lines.