"nonet" poems
It’s day seven of NaPoWriMo;
I have to write a fresh poem.
But it is also Monday
and I have no topic,
no inspiration.
So this feeble
nonet will
have to
do.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
My father was a plumber and more
He is gone now with much forlorn
I miss his advice and lore
A leak sparked memory
Of great days of yore
Advice I seek
To fix my
Toilet
Leak
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
Snow
Dances
And floats down
White haze backdrop
Filling the window
Romantic fantasies
Sleigh rides and hot chocolate
Childhood dreams of fun and frolic
Coating the earth in white beauty
That beaches and sun will never know
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
This poem is composed by: a Nonet, a Kyrielle Sonnet, a Free verse part, a Terzanelle and another Free verse part:
In a juerga there’s nothing around
But voices, flamenco guitars ,
Dancing bodies in moonlight,
Vibrant gypsy dresses,
Passion, obsessions,
Bullfighter’s blades,
Silk shawls,
Dancers,
Capes.
Old men have faces scorched and cracked,
Flamenco women to attract,
Like barks of olive trees in night.
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.
Girls have boot heels and huge roses,
Men clench their teeth , step opposes,
Hands clap and shout in a dance fight,
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.
Guitars are beaten at high speeds,
Castanets scratch the music’s seeds,
Rhythmic fingers snap air to bite,
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.
Old men have faces scorched and cracked,
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.
Hands becoming wings
In their shadows on the wall,
Red becoming black and
Black becoming white,
Motion vibrating the guitar's string,
Cubic movements of colors,
In their dance ,
Shadowy wings becoming scarfs,
Flamenco woman arching her body,
Showing her passion…
From the soul to dissolve
The dancing sounds detach
From the soul to dissolve
When the movement they catch,
They may change all around,
The dancing sounds detach.
Drums and tambourines’ sound,
Exotic wrists and swirls,
They may change all around.
The weightless grace makes girls
Steal treasures from the air,
Exotic wrists and swirls.
With beautiful black hair,
Rise like birds , fall like leaves.
Steal treasures from the air,
Having tricks up their sleeves,
From the soul to dissolve,
Rise like birds ,fall like leaves
From the soul to dissolve.
Spicy slippery steps
Waiting for a clue,
Picking up portions of pink
Of hyper-femininity ,
Overflowing screwy sounds
In heavy red chromesthesia,
Morphing themselves into glamorous ,
Red feminine movements,
Men looking like marble statues being alive,
Seemingly cracking.
Slowly diminishing their dancing rhythm,
Steps sickling sweet sounds
To hear the horn of some lost happiness.
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 4:36 PM UTC
A juerga with flamenco guitars,
With fires blooming like red flowers,
Corpses dancing in moonlight
The dance of wounded souls,
Vibrant red dresses
White shirts like birds,
Falling shawls,
Dancers,
Sky,
Claps,
Cubic
Movements of
Color, music's
Seeds, hands being wings
In shadows on the wall,
From soul detaching passion's
Lights, motion vibrating the string,
Resonance for a new dimension.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 8:11 PM UTC
I
Love creeks
They're pretty
I love dear creeks
That bubble and flow
With ice-cold clear water
Creeks are where the Fairies live
With peace and harmony soothing
I would love to live by a dear creek.
~Marian~
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 8:16 AM UTC
It was the day of the wedding of Mr and Mrs Epithalamium they looked quite the Heroic Couplet and full of Romanticism until the Englyn Prose-d the Questionku ‘ Do you take this woman’ … then in a wavering Iambic Pentameter voice the groom whispered ‘I do not know’ ….Mrs Epithalamium felt quite Dizain and tried to scratch out his Ruba’I, the Clerihew stepped forward to comfort her but tripped over some Concrete and felt like a right Cowboy. The brides father, the Russian Chastushka, grabbed the groom and with a Carpe Diem attitude threatened to Choka him.
The guests all gathered in an Enclosed Rhyme with the best man making quite a Dramatic Monologue, the brides mother had her Hybronnet knocked off her head and the chief bridesmaid had her Kimo torn in the affray. The young flower girls Haibun and Hamd both burst into tears as their Crown of Sonnets were totally destroyed.
The Rev. Pantoum pleaded for calm, then repeating his plea for the melee to stop started making a List of the damage, quick as a Ghazal and with great Imagism he protected the Crystalline glass from smashing into Ninette pieces. Meanwhile the poor bride was in a state of Nonet anxiously trying to get past the twins Munaajaat and Musaddas, her Idyll life had been turned upside down, today was the day she had hoped to change her Name to Triolet.
Alliteration watched while women wept, then stepped forward and with a Lyric in his voice asked people to calm down, he told everyone he had Naat come here to watch a display such as this and suggested they went for a hot Canzone to discuss the next move, Tanka and Tyburn readily agreed as they were very hungry and particularly as it was Free Verse it meant they could eat as much as they wanted. The nearly bride couldn’t give a Sijo if she never saw her ex again she was sick of being Kyrielle to and did not want anyone else’s Epyllion and with a final Than-Bauk stormed out of the club…
© 6/4/2013
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
were you a 50's
godchild in the city,
wing-tipped feet
running the streets
all week, ketchin hell...
then you gots that check
come friday
and needed a taste of heaven...
you and the dog pound
swung mid-town
to broadway & 47th
after 9,
and joined the line spilling
from the royal roost round 48th...
by 10, the joint was jammed
with gents well-coifed,
matching honeys, and the sounds
of money being made:
chime of silverware ~ cling,
and the cash register's ~ swish cha-ching,
and the chatter of guests,
servers and bartenders
doing their thing ~ wah da bing
then the lights dimmed
leaving a semi-dark haze
of gray smoke swirling
over the crowd,
and mc symphony sid
grabbed the mike:
*"...welcome to the friday nite jam session
at the metropolitan bopera house
ladies and gentlemen...."*
hysterical hoots and applause
followed
as the circular spotlight paused
center stage,
unveiling:
~ the miles davis nonet ~
featuring,
max on drums,
john on keys,
gerry and lee on sax
and a genius
on trumpet
'twas the birth of cool
and soon the rhapsody
of modern jazz
waxed hypnotic,
casting a spell
over god's children
when budo chased lady bird
down allen's alley,
spittin'...
riffin'....
boppin'...,
poppin'.....
superfluidity
like acid through
varicosed veins
the earth stood still
it seemed
for 4 thrilling hours
as heaven rained a rifftide
onto the lucky crowd...
and dewey's sublime trumpet
exorcised the devil
from the week that was...
~ P (Pablo)
(7/24/2013)
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
His heart is made of pure altruism
His soul is made of bright mercy
His mind is made of strong will
His deeds are right and just
His words are wisdom
He's made of love
My own love
Just for
Him.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 1:24 PM UTC
I have applied pressure to the wound
And have bandaged it quite firmly
But nothing stops the bleeding
And nothing stops the ache
My heart broke for you...
But I have no
Bandaids to
Protect
My
Heart.
I hold
It in my
Hands-- blood quickly
Dripping through fingers.
Drops of blood mark my path
Showing just where I have been,
And where I'm headed to. My heartbeat
Stops. It ends, my love, just as you do.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 12:32 PM UTC
I
Think that
Christmas is
Very pretty
Like the falling snow
That kisses my fair cheeks
With pretty lacy snowflakes
That fall on a cold Winter's day
Christmas is such a sweet Holiday
~Marian~
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
Your tiny frame fit in my embrace
Shivers travel up and through me
Electrifying, grounding
though it does not shock you;
You've always felt it
The spark within
ignited,
kindled
fire
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
Our eyes met; it was love at first sight
Our first date, we envisioned our
Future children and our home
Cuddling in a single bed
Love, we just fit
Married soon
Dreams are
True
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
Voice
trembling,
uncertain
Hands in pockets
Guitar on her back
She's been waiting too long
to find a place she'll call Home
Tonight, she sings of cold weather
But spare change won't spare her from frostbite
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
*Ache,
Distress,
Agony—
Three words; One shade.
Dark shadow of fear—
Creeps up to haul us down.
From the radiance of solace—
The fog of doubt besiege our thoughts;
Yet we continue to stand our ground.*
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:12 AM UTC
Spring
Is the
Time when all
The roses bloom
And when buds open
And when flowers unfurl
Their very dear sweet petals
And when cool breezes caress me
And when wisteria climbs up trees
~Marian~
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 11:11 AM UTC
Those perspective sweet words shoot to me
Silently brick my heart into-
Something mellifluosly;
touch, catch, jump, clutch & match.
Wavered me quickly
by the thoughts of
this and that---
how to
say?
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 2:15 AM UTC
At the sea, on the run, on a quest
*On a sailing ship decamping
Sailing far to the very end
To the end of the world
Only to free my soul
On a quest for
The unknown*
**At the
Sea**
©Kikodinho Alexandros
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 7:45 PM UTC
Three nights in a row, you came to me,
And it still was only Wednesday.
I tried to help you each time--
I sang songs of my heart,
But you demanded
An orchestra.
So I failed,
Of course.
"Thanks."
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
*We walked past the old acacia tree
It was raining, we were wet, but
she held my hand and pushed on
We sat on a park bench
She laid her head on
my shoulder, and
she told me:
true love
waits*
Wait
she said
We were wet
Her fingers dug
in my shoulders. I
laid her head on the grass
She pulled me close, I pushed on
They could have seen us from the park
as it rained beneath the acacia
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 3:36 PM UTC
Of friends I haven't many you see.
Most don't take the time to know me.
But one reads me like a book,
and keeps me in her nook.
I feel her old soul,
diamond from coal,
let's me be
me for
me.
*A little gift for Rebecca Askew one of my favorites here on HP
A Nonet is a nine line poem, with the first line containing nine syllables, the next eight, so on until the last line has one syllable. Nonets can be written about any subject, and rhyming is optional.*
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 6:30 PM UTC
our consciousness is awakening
a door is opening within
so let this wondrous journey
lead us to our soul self
ready to express
its unique gift
filled with light
joy and
love
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 1:33 PM UTC
(SAY)
Welcome! Come in. Stay for awhile, friend.
Tell about your wonderful life.
How are the kids and the wife?
I'm glad you are well, friend.
I wish you the best.
Friends to the end.
You always
Pass the
Test.
Pest!
Listen
To yourself.
I hope you die!
Annoying wee elf!
Please, poke out my right eye.
Kids are brats and your wife's fat.
The best days of your life passed by.
Get the Hell out, fiend! Go on! Get! ****
(THINK)
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
*Thanking God you feel better today
praying thy happiness endures
May you trust Him for healing
Find refuge in His wings
shelter from life's blasts
and evil winds
Eternal
trusting
Him*
~Hilda~
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
Nonet pen connects hearts hardships pain
melts the heart and soul understands
loneliness makes true artist
poets read between lines
there are sad poets
and funny too
dramatic
lonely
blue....
DEBBIE BROOKS 2014
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC