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Skye Applebome Aug 2013
I gaze into your deep eyes with dismay,
Inside I see a lost soul gone astray.

“Anything I can do?” I dare to say,
You shake your head, like you mean to say “nay.”

Deep inside, I can tell that you meant “yay,”
I'm sure that things won’t always be this way.

I notice your hurting, for you I pray,
That you recover fast, with no delay.

I remember the times we used to play,
In the backyard as kids, for the whole day.

You were so happy, but that’s gone away,
Perhaps next time you grin, your cheer will stay.
Hey, so I heard about this type of poem and decided to give it a try.
Simply put, a ghazel is a collection of couplets, with every line rhyming and having the same number of syllables.
Not all of those requirements must be met for it to be considered a ghazel (confusing, right?).
The first couplet HAS to rhyme, but after that, the first line of the next couplet(s) doesn't have to rhyme. You can also repeat words. All the lines must have the same number of syllables, however.
I decided to make it ALL rhyme because I'm that type of person xD
Originally I attempted to use nine syllables per line, but then towards the beginning of the fifth couplet, everything fell apart, so if you're thinking of writing one, I recommend syllable patterns of ten, but I've heard patterns of seven and eight work well, too. The minimum amount of couplets needed is four, but there can be any number above that. I chose six couplets because if I had kept it going it would've fallen apart (again).
(Sorry if it's bad, it's my first attempt, so I might have messed something up, and some of the lines don't flow too well because I had trouble getting it to work..thanks for reading it anyways, though!)
Dans le bain, sur les dalles,

À mon pied négligent

J'aime à voir des sandales

De cuir jaune et d'argent.

En quittant ma baignoire,

Il me plaît qu'une noire

Fasse mordre à l'ivoire

Mes cheveux, manteau brun,

Et, versant l'eau de rose

Sur mon sein qu'elle arrose,

Comme l'aube et la rose,

Mêle perle et parfum.


J'aime aussi l'odeur fine

De la fleur des Houris,

Sur un plat de la Chine

Des sorbets d'ambre gris,

L'*****, ciel liquide,

Poison doux et perfide,

Qui remplit l'âme vide

D'un bonheur étoilé ;

Et, sur l'eau qui réplique,

Un doux bruit de musique

S'échappant d'un caïque

De falots constellé.


J'aime un fez écarlate

De sequins bruissant,

Où partout l'or éclate,

Où reluit le croissant.

L'arbre en fleur où se pose

L'oiseau cher à la rose,

La fontaine où l'eau cause,

Tout me plaît tour à tour ;

Mais, au ciel et sur terre,

Le trésor que préfère

Mon cœur jeune et sincère,

C'est amour pour amour !

— The End —