Mary-Eliz

Mary-Eliz May 2018

Roundelay With Ersatz Rhyming (Why Did I Start With Daunting?!)

I find this challenge daunting
one that I’ve not tried before
hope my efforts are not wanting
and that I get a decent score

My stress, oh lord, is mounting
instead of having spirits soar

Hope my efforts are not wanting
I’ve tied myself in knots galore
as this contest is so taunting
and has become a frightful chore

My stress, oh lord, is mounting
instead of having spirits soar

as this contest is so taunting
why did I make the challenge more
I didn’t set out to be vaunting
please help my rhyming I implore

My stress, oh lord, is mounting
instead of having spirits soar

I didn’t set out to be vaunting
oh! thank god I’m on verse four
with this exercise so exhausting
I'm quite sure I couldn't do one more

My stress, oh lord, is mounting
instead of having spirits soar

Roundelay
By Lawrence Eberhart | January 14, 2013 | didactic
There is some confusion online as to the meaning of the term “roundelay,” with some references confusing it with the French “rondelet” and others describing it as any poem with a refrain. Actually, the roundelay, rondelet, rondeau, rondel, and other similar sounding poems all spring from a common French origin, but are all very different in contemporary use. The roundelay’s many repeating couplets and limited rhymes can make it a difficult form to write, but as with many successful poems with refrains, can also make for profound or esoteric poetry.
The roundelay consists of four sestets (six-line stanzas) made up of twelve repeating couplets (two-line stanzas, one of which repeats as each stanza’s last two lines. The stanzas’ couplets A,B,C,D ,E and R (the continuing refrain) combine in the following pattern:
A B R … B C R … C D R … D E R
So, in the second stanza, “B C R” represents six-lines (three couplets), with couplet “B” repeating from the first stanza, couplet “C” repeating in the following stanza, and its last couplet “R” repeating as every stanza’s last two lines. In addition, each couplet’s first line rhymes with other couplets’ first lines and all second lines rhyme with each other as well, making the rhyme scheme:
a-b-a-b-a-b … a-b-a-b-a-b … a-b-a-b-a-b … a-b-a-b-a-b
Remember that in a rhyming pattern, lines ending in a sound designated by “a” only rhyme with other “a” lines, “b” lines only with other “b” lines, and so on.
Trochaic tetrameter (four feet of “DUM-dah” per line, see “Meter”) is a requirement, but it is permissible for some of the lines to be one syllable short.

Ha-ha-ha!! Neither profound nor esoteric.

#humormaybe #roundelay #rhyme #poetryforms #challenge #daunting #writingstress

Mary-Eliz May 2018

Keyboard Smash Challenge

mirrors don’t show the entire picture
reflecting, yet there’s so much more
somewhere in the core of every person looking in
all seeking answers, questing dreams
pictures just as mirrors cannot reveal the whole
defining only that which eye of camera sees
matching not the truest spirit
overlooking hopes that lie within
garnering merely the fleshly persona
not the genuine, not the one therein

10 random letters typed on keyboard; used in order as first letter of lines; at least 5 words per line.

#keyboardsmash #letters #pictures #mirrors #persona #images

Mary-Eliz May 2018

Truth

oh such humility
is found here

not a cocky one
in the lot

no narcissism
or conceitedness

not a word about
**** so taut

not a one thinks
he's better

than any other
on the site

or in the world
for that matter

who thinks he's
always right

not one thinks
that he is

God's gift to
humankind

or that others
swoon for him

because he's so
very fine

at least most
don't write it

a bragging
load of poo

if you have to
write about it

it's certainly
not true!

"The truth?!...you can't handle the truth!"

#truth #conceit #narcissism #bragging #humility

May 2018

L B

Yellow Waking Mother (short poems)

Yellow is
a high-minded mood
the extravagance of sunlight
to be touched--
before long
by colors of play
___

It is of hair
tendering golden sun
brown pennies for lemonade
__

Yellow is
bumping into the screaming end
of a lit
cigarette
___

Yellow is
dripping from the eaves
onto an empty soup can
___

It is
spindling sparrow song
from highest perch on roof
his pitch can aspire
___

Yellow is
in rattled doorknob
an infant's sweet
voice wanting – in
Reciting menu
above mattress
edges into sleep
two dark eyes
plead
for yellow
waking
Mother into morning--
“juice.... eggs”

Yellow  ___
is
opening a car door
at the shore's
unmistakable!
Smells of life
warmth and breeze
touching strings
those kites
of sense
harmonics
above the tone
octaves of excitement
to see to hear to touch to taste
to know
again –

the ocean of my mother
as she calms the waves,
ignores the pouts of us
with stuff to lug out to the beach
the towels, pails and shovels
Picnic basket, cooler
lotion, comic books, her magazines

Mom looks out
She is a good swimmer
Her glasses, dark
Preside
reflecting beauty –

“Take your sister's hand.”

Yellow are the squeals
Feet thrashing sand
of cannot wait

For my daughter, Phoebe and my mother.

May 2018

Rose

I miss you, Mom.

Do you remember when I was younger?
Do you remember when you would wash my hair because it was too long for me to do it myself?
Do you remember taking me to school in the morning and buying me breakfast on the way there?
Or maybe when we would go to yard sales on Saturday and you would buy me old prom dresses and costume jewelry for me to dress up in?
Do you remember when I developed separation anxiety and had to sleep with you every night?
Now, I wash my own hair because I cut the long lengths of it off.
Now, I take myself to school in the morning and buy myself breakfast on the way.
Now, I work on Saturdays to save up for my prom dress.
Now, I sleep alone, clinging to my pillow.
Now, I miss you more than ever before.
I miss when you had hair as long as mine.
I miss when you would do my makeup and tell me that I hardly needed any at all.
I miss when you would play outside with me.
I miss when you would rub my back and hold me, whispering that everything would be okay.
I miss when I had someone to talk to, someone to tell how my day went.
I miss your smile, the way your lips curled into thin lines and your gums showed.
I miss your eyes, the same deep dark chocolate brown as mine.
I miss your voice, the soft yet raspy one that would wake me up every morning.
I miss you, mom.
And I don’t think there will ever be a day when I don’t miss you.
Some days are harder than others.
Some days I can hardly function,
And others, I wake up as if there is nothing wrong.
But deep in my heart, there is a hole.
One that can never be filled.
It just slowly drips out loneliness,
And it makes me miss you more and more.

3-16-18

May 2018

Hannah Christina

Musing in Broken Forms

Right now I am
thinking in poetry

line breaks

word shapes

stack sounds in strange ways

Is this how it is meant to look?

Maybe it would look better
feel nicer
sound clearer
if i put in fewer spaces.

Do I want all punctuation?
Properly formatted sentences
can be difficult
to rhymatize.

Is rhymatize a word?
I think so.
Red squiggles underline.
Wait...
Google says no.
I still say yes.

Now I digress.
But does that work?
Should the flow of ideas be neatly outlined, or come freely as my thoughts? Perhaps I should spill the words out all as one in unbroken strings of color and thought the way they feel in my head unsaid
occasional rhymes and occasional beats and breaks keep changing

is this poetry?

Do
random line breaks
really take
prose
and
make it poetic
or
do
I
need to do actual
work
and find a form and stick with it?

For now today
I'll lilt and play
around.

Every poem a new experiment, another chance to try something new.

To play with rhythm, feelings, and sounds, to meticulously arrange language into a perfect unbroken form,

Or to simply see where the thoughts take me.
Should my real point be what is said, or how I
am saying it?

Sometimes the saying itself is the point.

Now for something really, really experimental. I didn't really know how this would end up when I started writing it.

For this summer, I've made a commitment to draft a poem every day if at all possible. I've done it three days in a row now (though I haven't edited or published the other poems yet) and I thank everyone who reads any of my work most deeply. It really boosts my motivation to keep going, so by simply reading and especially by giving feedback you really help me to keep trying and ultimately to get better. So thank you ever so much.

#experimental #poetry #free #verse