James Khan Feb 2
Just whistle, lad and try to hold a tune,

It never rains in France for very long,

By grace of God, we'll all be back home soon,

The lambent light these Frenchman call la lune

Is dampened dark by Mars' infernal song,

Just whistle, lad and try to hold a tune,

Our gaunt and haunted faces streaked maroon

are advocates for all that has gone wrong,

By Grace of God we'll all be back home soon,

Unhallowed now, our ditch describes a tomb

and backs of heads afloat are pulled along,

Just whistle, lad and try to hold a tune,

There's sausage, boy and mash so grab a spoon

And hear the Springfield ring the dinner-gong,

By grace of God we'll all be back home soon,

Our place is not to challenge nor impugn

The principles that make our nation strong,

Just whistle, lad and try to hold a tune,

By Grace of God we'll all be back home soon.
Linking in with my other poem, Tranquility this Villanelle also encompasses the conflicts across the Albett-Baupamme Road where two significant landmark positions were known as Sausage Valley and, of course the adjacent one, Mash Valley by the Allied forces.

I've taken liberty with a few words such as 'there's' and 'we've' to keep a consistent meter throughout. Please forgive this poetic faux pas and pretend it's proper iambic pentameter.

The villanelle consists of five stanzas of three lines (tercets) followed by a single stanza of four lines (a quatrain) for a total of nineteen lines.[21] It is structured by two repeating rhymes and two refrains: the first line of the first stanza serves as the last line of the second and fourth stanzas, and the third line of the first stanza serves as the last line of the third and fifth stanzas.[21] The rhyme-and-refrain pattern of the villanelle can be schematized as A1bA2 abA1 abA2 abA1 abA2 abA1A2 where letters ("a" and "b") indicate the two rhyme sounds, upper case indicates a refrain ("A"), and superscript numerals (1 and 2) indicate Refrain 1 and Refrain 2.[6]
James Khan Feb 10
Touché, I say the way we fought was sterling,

Blitzkrieg ballast, Luftwaffe like locust-plague

And still we see our faithful flag unfurling,

Conversations, condemnations in the Hague

Unpick the sutures stitched by groomed moustaches,

Eyebrows raised, the taut conjecture seems so vague,

Pray, why was Sobibor not bombed to ashes?

Plazow, Belzec, Auschwitz; sir, the list is long,

As long as tracks to which a train attaches,

Someone sang to me a sympathetic song,

Die Dachaulied, the tune of condemnation,

Syncopated to the feet that dragged along

Devoid of hope and sans their Lord's salvation,

Work, they said would free those misbegotten slaves

And so it did, but not emancipation,

Rather the infernal charcoal-pit as graves

To Finalise the spiritual Solutions,

Man is only measured by the lives he saves

But sir, I fear we failed our constitutions,

Millions herded deathwards to a screaming end

And nobody to halt those executions,

Would we now commiserate, perhaps pretend

That nothing could have eased that tragic number,

Not when Christian men must make a Jew a friend,

Contrite conjecture wakes me from my slumber,

My conscience darkened by a blood-moon umbra.
Terza Rima, one of my favourite forms from my favourite poet. Challenging eleven-line syllable structure that works great in fourteenth-century Italian but can be difficult in modern English. Consequently, the meter shifts from iambic to trochaic, line by line in order to maintain meter consistency throughout.

I've addressed the Great War but not Hitler's war against morality. During my research into the various Nazi 'Aktions' it is clear that, despite much testimony from escapees and defectors the Allies never saw fit to destroy the huge train network that deported Jews through Europe into Poland, to their eventual death. Given the size of the train network, damaging the tracks could well have set back the Final Solution protocols, costing the Reich time and resources that they didn't have. Alternatively, many Jews would have welcomed an airstrike on their camps if only to put it out of commission and spare the lives of future generations.

That we allowed this genocide to occur is a great tragedy and I feel we should have done more. Much, much more.

If we could smuggle assassins in to cap Reinhardt Heydrich, we could have infiltrated the camps or at least damaged the rail networks.

Die Dachaulied (song of Dachau) was a prisoners' dirge that the SS actually enjoyed and welcomed its manifest, even though it denigrates the Reich. In Dachau and other labor camps, such songs were common and can be found on the Internet in English, Polish and German.

Concentration camps existed but at least three institutions were built solely for extermination: Belzec, Sobibor and Treblinka. The Nazis killed so many through these camps and destroyed virtually all the evidence prior to the conclusion of the war.

A terza rima is an Italian form of poetry first used by Dante Alighieri.

A terza rima consists of stanzas of three lines (or tercets) usually in iambic pentameter. It follows an interlocking rhyming scheme, or chain rhyme. This is where the middle of each stanza rhymes with the first and last line of the following stanza. There is no set length to this form, as long as it follows the pattern as follows:


With the last stanza as a couplet rhyming with the middle line of the previous stanza. In this case, EE.

Pleading poetic license for the crowning couplet: its hard to find three end-rhymes with the word 'number'. Yikes!
Lyn-Purcell Jul 28
My white gazebo
with thin caryatid columns
and wrought iron top
on a frieze carved with small leaves
The crown jewel of dew-kissed lands
My first Tanka poem! ^-^
Tanka is considered to be the oldest form of Japanese poems. What I love about them is that they are incredibly similar to haikus!
Haikus are 5 syllables - 7 syllables - 5 syllables while Tankas are  5 syllables - 7 syllables - 5 syllables  - 7 syllables - 7 syllables.
Tankas poems are written about nature, seasons, love, sadness,  other strong emotions and events.
Here's mine! Based on an gazebo I saw in a garden once and one I envision for my growing Kingdom. I'm a lover of Greek myth and ancient architecture so I just had fun with it.
Hope you like it!
Wishing everyone a good night!
Queen Lyn xxx
        Cal axis

Them blues, them blues,
them deep, deep blues—
Big holes with shoes.

The sky, it cries.
Good Lord, it cries.
And so my eyes.

I got the shakes,
the blues and the shakes.
Leadbelly aches.

I fatten frogs—
fattening frogs
for snakes and dogs.

Them blues, them blues,
them deep, deep blues—
I got them blues.

The flames they rise up inside of me
an inferno of words, all screaming
to be the first to break my outer shell
to be the first to break me
to make me let one slip,
to form a crack, running down my face
inviting people to pull it open.
and as curiosity consumes most,
that one inferno risen word
will be the end of me
James Khan Aug 11
Lascivious, lustful and brash
With a pocketful bursting with cash ,
For the price of a cab
You'll have plenty to grab
And the chance of a pustular rash.

If roots of all evil are wealth
Then you'll never be evil yourself,
With a job and those kids
You can barely find quids
And your greed is as poor as your health.

Your issues with weight have to wait
Till you've finished the food on your plate
And you only see sin
In the frail and the thin
And you'll never admit to self-hate.

If anger inhibits your views,
Take a breath and consider good news,
That you haven't broke backs
Or gone mad with an axe
And you're not on the end of a noose.

When jealousy turns it all green
Then the world is no longer serene,
And the best you can hope
Is your ego will cope
And dilute it to aquamarine.

Too lazy to answer the door
If it warrants your feet on the floor,
And the lonely embrace
Of the silence betrays
Opportunity knocking no more.

Persistence of pride has no grace
When it poisons your thoughts like malaise,
When embarrassment strikes
And intolerance spikes
Then your nose will fall off-a your face.
The Seven Deadly Sins. In classical Limerick form. Anapaestic trimeter and bimeter.

PoserPersona Jul 27
Your hair stills heart's rhythmic meter
  For this I wish forever
Strands spun with goddess gossamer;
  softer than touch of mother

Your eyes dazzle with no glitter
  For this I stare o're yonder
Locking jewels with coins of others;
  Leaves throbbing chests emptier

Your form flows as gentle rivers
  For this I grudge past swimmers
Glory bequeathed to the winner;
  drown will the losing suitors

Your voice humbles angel choirs
  For this I listen eager
Songs molding seraphs from satyrs;
  in harmony with nature

Your being stirs wildfire
  For this I bear the pleasure
Ethereal flames dance together;
  fueled by spiritual tethers

You are my love light of summer
  For this I waded winter
Glowing 'bove, spring was made greener;
  blooming nascent desire
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