Sunday, March 29, 2009

Week 12

This poem is written as a Rondel. A Rondel is a medieval French verse written in 13 lines with only two rhymes in its three stanzas. It employs a two‐line refrain which opens the poem and recurs at lines 7 and 8, the first line (or, in a 14‐line variant, both opening lines) also completing the poem. The rhyme scheme—with the repeated lines given in capitals—is thus ABba abAB abbaA (B). Although it has no fixed meter, I have a tendency to write with ten syllables per line...Anyway, enjoy. =)


In search of prophesy come look to me,
In sweetened tea, I am the crinkled leaves,
You have no need this day to drop the eaves,
Look deep within my hidden depths and see.

I know you're bound. See me! I am your key,
I am the light in your much darkened eves,
In search of prophesy come look to me,
In sweetened tea, I am the crinkled leaves.

Stretch forth your hand and take safety, I plea!
I, your calm amidst storms and violent seas,
Your shining knight against our love's dark thieves,
Allow a dance for future's jubilee,
In search of prophesy come look to me.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Week 11

Muse From Spirit's Sheets (Acrostic/Vilanelle)

Talent wanders in and finds her time,
How sweet the sound of the muse's beats,
Enjoy it all, the rhyme on rhyme.

Pour your heart out, the time is prime,
Our grasping minds await your treats,
Ecstatic muse! Wander in, it is your time!

Threads of meter, as silent harps they chime,
Silent passion engulfs our mind's long streets,
And all rejoice in the rhyme on rhyme.

Nocturnal passion! From dreams they climb,
Called upon the muse from spirit's sheets,
Talent wanders in and finds her time.

Unheard dreams stretch forth in sound sublime,
Acrostics across the board lure us from seats,
Reflected dreams wander in--it is her time,
Yearning for the beautiful rhyme on rhyme.

The Rise A Series of Haiku upon the life of a tree.

Softly plink a' plink
Mist rises off mother's womb
Life nurtured in peace

Belov├ęd son rests
Warm embrace fosters new soul
Constant beat comforts

Soil shifts as sprouts spread
Shy birth touched by radiance
Dawn breaks on new life

Fierce spirit perched high
Reaches with tendrils of life
Caress youth with care

Orange leaves dance slowly
Caught amid fall's righteous truth
But twirl on in bliss

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Week 10

Thoughts for this piece inspired by: The Lady of Shalott.

Please view all ~~ as a "tab"
A Thought About Shalott

I sit within my walls and brood,
The dark surrounds and feeds my mood,
My eyes at rest but thoughts prevail,
Each image viewed through black veil,
~~Each thought I know is Wrong.
At times I feel as the Lady Shalott,
Her life was hell, was it not?
She was cursed, and it spawns my thought,
~~Who at least will sing my Song?

The Lady knew a curse upon her lay,
Yet peaced she sat weaving each day,
She viewed the world through her large mirror,
And of the curse she had no fear,
~~But even this, it must be Wrong.
She saw the world's reflection alone,
And knew no longing till she heard a tone,
Lancelot singing along, the seeds he'd sown,
~~She found at last a true Song.

But what of me? I live as she,
I sit stagnant, unbound but not free,
While friends and family go on with life,
Some with jobs, others get wives,
~~What is it that I've done Wrong?
Am I cursed as she to live solitaire,
Or is even that curse a curse too fair?
A life as theirs cannot be so rare,
~~I simply wish to share my Song.

Though bound in string I may not be,
Nor true curse I cannot now see,
Yet my feet hold firm to this constant spot,
While they move on with nary a thought,
~~I must have done Wrong.
Soon, I know, my lure will ride by,
And along with her my dreams will fly,
A love with beauty and humor so wry,
~~She will know me and share my Song.

Until that day I still sit and ponder,
What it'd take to make me wander,
To travel out among the crowds,
And find a love that I can wow,
~~This dream cannot be Wrong.
I refuse to end as the Lady Shalott,
Alone upon her barge, begriming a rot,
I will find the love I've sought,
~~Someone to love and share my Song.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Week 9

Nani is my kitty, btw. Figured I'd toss that out there for the title to make sense =)

The sound of elephants romping along,
Its echo potent on the hard wood floor,
Each step a feroce beat in half-voiced song,
A melody hid in staccato throng,
Her paws strike 'long and strong like drums of war.

A poignant pause from the cacophony,
As all at once the rumbling foot-steps cease,
The silence rolls on--then a howling plea,
The yowl evokes the heart of a banshee,
Before again resumes the quiet-the peace.

Her mood pitches much like the roiling sea,
At times so still and sweet--but then a keen.
I'm drawn around the corner to go see,
And there she sits as fine as royalty,
Her low meow as regal as a queen.

She's perched before a portal to the night,
Her eyes stare out with their internal shine,
A silent foe within her hunter sight,
The enemy will fall without a fight,
The door withheld! She leaves no sign.