Thank you, Petra. As I said before, flow means more to me than meter, when I try meter, I write too stilted, and have to force-rhyme. That's not my style of poetry. (I keep forgetting you are a teacher! Grammar corrected!)Originally Posted by Petrarch's Love
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
Barbara, it begins to seem as if I have ruined your contest. I beg forgiveness. Look people. I have an illness, OK? It isn't going to go away, no matter how much I wish it would. And it sometimes makes me irrational. It goes with the illness. Take some time out of your busy schudle, and educate yourself about Bi Polar and you will understand me better. It is what others could and should have done, but they to this day refuse.
But don't screw up this contest for Barb, because you think you will hurt my feelings. I have lived with this stuff 13 long hard years. I will not stand by and see this contest destroyed over me. Hop to it and get some poetry in here. I will leave the forum entirely before I will be the cause of a single hurt feeling here.
You think I don't love you or care for you? Wrong number! I love you all. And I love you enough to let you go if that is what is best for you. Not one of you has entered a poem except me. Now get cracking and get those poems in. Time is wasting away. Never take me lightly, I mean what I say!
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
Pen, you haven't damaged the thread at all. Perhaps people are struggling for inspiration? I know I found the last form a challenge, and sonnets are really not my thing. I might write something, if inspiration strikes, but I can't make any promises on this one.
I think most people understand about your illness, and if they don't that's their loss not yours. Don't feel that you have to apologise for something which is outside your control, imagine if someone apologised to you for having a broken arm, or the 'flu. Just because your illness manifests in a different way doesn't mean that it's any different.
Sorry if that sounded like a rant - I have a friend who suffers with depression so I've seen the effects from the outside. I understand how unpleasant it can be.
Barbara - I really will try and write something! I'm glad you dropped the meter - my head was spinning, line count, syllable count, rhyme scheme, meter. I'm such a lightweight.
Want to know what I think about books? Check out https://biisbooks.wordpress.com/
Now Pen, don't be too self conscious. You haven't hurt people's feelings and you haven't ruined the thread, so rest easy. We just can't all turn out wonderful sonnets as quickly as you can (you're so good at getting these poems turned out!).Please don't think the dearth of entries has anything to do with you, and certainly not with your illness. I think people are just busy thinking out what they can pack into fourteen lines. As it happens I have some free time this evening and was planning to work out a little something anyway so, if the muse is with me, your entry won't be alone much longer.
"In rime sparse il suono/ di quei sospiri ond' io nudriva 'l core/ in sul mio primo giovenile errore"~ Francesco Petrarca
"Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can."~ Jane Austen
And we all love you too, Uncle Pen, which is why we're telling you not to apologise just because we're not as fast as you or as good a poet!You think I don't love you or care for you? Wrong number! I love you all.
We also mean what we say! And we're telling you not to feel bad about any of this 'cuz you dont have to.Never take me lightly, I mean what I say!
Petrarch: Looking forward to another wonderful sonnet then.
.
...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.
Well, here's my attempt for this round. Experimented with a loose alexandrine throughout and have my reservations about the result, but I guess I'll leave it to the judge.
This ground last year this time was white with the new snows
Like fine sugar, equally scattered. Early. Thin.
Here where we glimpse the last colour of the last rose
Last year this time all life was shriveled in sharp wind.
This year, so blessed with late and lasting sunlight
Is ignorant of youth cut short by early frost,
Unreflecting fades in golden autumn twilight,
Knows nothing of being undone by sudden loss.
The years will come and go, late and soon, as they may
And they must come and go, though they might wish to stay
While this little plot of earth, unconcerned, sees them pass
This ground last year this time held one with hair like snow
Here, where now the fresh earth holds fresh young limbs below.
And this little plot of earth, unconcerned, sees us pass.
"In rime sparse il suono/ di quei sospiri ond' io nudriva 'l core/ in sul mio primo giovenile errore"~ Francesco Petrarca
"Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can."~ Jane Austen
Hoorah! We've got two entries now. But I think it's time to extend the deadline. How about October 30?
I implore all muses to inspire their litnet poets!
PS: Petra, your poem gave me the shivers!
No, you're not. I've read enough posts from you to know.
This thread is supposed to be fun. And if poeple don't find it fun to play with a very, very strict form - well, one has to be less strict.
So please have fun everyone.
Bump! goes the thread,
it's almost dead.
I beg you, please,
I'm on my knees,
please write a sonnet,
I'm counting on it!
Two entries only
feel so lonely.
It's not so hard -
please try and start!
OK, let me try. Give me a couple of days.
LET THERE BE LIGHT
"Love follows knowledge." – St. Catherine of Siena
My literature blog: http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/
Well....if you're gonna beg....lol
I have been reading this form poetry contest all along but I am sooo lazy. But I have learned so much. Here is my very trite and simple entry. I would like to know if it is even close to what you are looking for and to know exactly where I am right and where I am wrong.
Dancing Hearts
Please join me in this dance
We'll prance around the floor
Together we'll enhance
The music of the score
So take me in your arms
Let's make a memory
Our speed might cause alarms
But oh such fun to see
Now dip and spin me 'round
Their breath, they hold, no sound
At last their clapping starts
The night has been a blast
But went by way too fast
And joined our dancing hearts.
I'm in love with The Vinegar Man and Mr. Tanner, but be careful, it could just as easily be you.
"If you're going to write you better have somewhere to come from." Flannery O'Connor
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times;
The shadow and the fire made the first of rhymes.
The child was in its cradle and the wolf asleep,
And both were counting out the innocence of sheep;
But Mother always hummed to them a lullaby,
In alternating lines of half-matched melody,
And found the soothing best to be the rocking beat:
A tidal lub-dub in each line and then repeat.
Since then the fractured world, in chaos and despair,
Has turned its back on Mum and wandered everywhere.
And thus the lullaby has fallen ill and dead...
There's no more need to rhyme, the wolf is now a dog;
And baby sleeps content in silence as a log
Upon the rhymeless altar of the modern bed.
se non e vero, e molto ben'trovato
Right. New deadline: November 5
Ampoule: Perfect form.
Thank you, everybody, for your entries. They're going to give me a hard time choosing. I love them all.
Ok Barbara, here's my attempt. I don't know if you understand baseball, but the world series inspired me to write on it.
Baseball
What caused the electric air in the park
To pace the game from inning to inning?
Did the World Series spit that special spark
To send players running, the ball spinning?
The pitcher winds, cocks his arm, snaps the wrist;
The batter spread on the balls of his feet
Sweeps the lumber, the curved arc at the gist
Of contact, the glint where bat and ball meet.
Motion takes over: ball departs, glides, soars;
Batter stumbles, regains by the fan’s roars,
Races to juncture of ball, tag, and slide.
The hoarse voice of the umpire’s shout
Dissolves into the night’s whiff without doubt;
Rooters groan and let their pennants subside.
LET THERE BE LIGHT
"Love follows knowledge." – St. Catherine of Siena
My literature blog: http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/
I would like to join in.
Where would we be without it?
It's subtle curvature outlines it's beauty
Fully bloomed it exudes a shiny pink hue
Growing to fruition with life, it's duty
It'll brighten the day and enlighten your mood
It's scalloped branches stretch out for the sky
Trapping the rain that decends night or day
Peeling it's bark as it grabs for the light
Red, brown and beige, it's bold colors array
It's rippened ovaries, a deceitful delight
It's sweet tasting bounty appeased Eve's appetite
For centuries this grand malus has been cherished
Written about since freewill began
This immortal being of Eden
Can't be blamed as Adam's soul perished
Last edited by Rockin462; 10-30-2007 at 02:05 PM.
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