A Paradelle (Challenge)

In a cruel joke on myself, I must note that. I chose this life, the life of a poet. I accepted a challenge to write a Paradelle, see the link for description.

I take a lot of pride in my ability to know and write in a wide variety of poetic forms. There are a few form I haven't tried yet. I do enjoy when presented with a form I hadn't heard of before, or written. A paradelle my boyfriend said, a parody of the Villanelle, see link for explanation. Both forms are strict in their form, with line repetition and rhyme in the case of the villanelle.

I was already into today's writing, so I decided to try it. It'll be easy.

Yeah, once I read the description, I kind of started to doubt my abilities. But, I also don't give up easily, except with a Sestina. I keep bringing that form up. It really need to share that poem sometime. I wrote a truly terrible sestina in college, for a poetry class. It was bad! So, a paradelle is a repeating poem with four stanzas; the first three have repeating lines that are the same (a, a, b, b, c, d), but the last two lines use all of the words in the first two (four) lines. In the last stanza you have six lines; using all of the words from the whole poem (only once for each word). It is a jigsaw puzzle of words and sense.

I did it though!

Note: as a challenge to you, Dear Readers, if I double used a word, or missed a word completely. please leave me a comment. I will revise and resubmit, because I am that type writer.

Crystal Forest Fracture

Outside, the middle of the forest

Outside, the middle of the forest,

Where nary a soul will set foot

Where nary a soul will set foot,

A soul, middle of the outside,

Set foot where nary the forest will.

Where the world begins to fracture

Where the world begins to fracture,

Built of ice and crystal

Built of ice and crystal,

Crystal begins to fracture and

The world of ice where built…

...that will not last through the midwinter

...that will not last through the midwinter,

The empire will fall in the Spring

The empire will fall in the Spring,

The Midwinter Empire will last not through

That will fall in the Spring.

In the Spring,

In the middle forest soul begins

To fracture and

Nary a foot will set in the ice world.

The Empire built of crystals will not last

Through Midwinter that will fall.

OctPoWriMo - Day 29 - Breathtaking (Dangerous View)

Today's Prompt: Breathtaking

All I can say about this day's prompt is think story time, Dear Readers. I played with images from fairy tales while concocting the premise of the poem, and then built a story around it, as a villanelle.

It helps to write a villanelle if I have a basic story already in my head, Dear Readers. I think i comes from the rhyming, it's much easier the rhyme if you are telling a story. At least for me it is.

Dear Readers, tell me what dangerous views you have seen on your life's adventures, and leave me some love. Enjoy!

FaFulanita from MorgueFile

Dangerous View

A brush with danger

shining ever so bright

with a petulant ardor

that gives you closure

for the gallant errant knight receives--

a brush with danger.

A challenge made fonder

that you must have to write

with a petulant ardor

of a full night of lunar

preparations for a fight,

a brush with danger.

There is none indeed nobler

in justice and of right

with a petulant ardor--

a lover of pleasure

that somehow might

greet a brush with danger

with a petulant ardor.

Obscure Poetry Month: The Villanelle

In the Time

In the time of the midwinter there is without,

When the light’s pulse is barely alive.

It feels as though the world is in a drought.

Only those who are mostly devout

Will find the secret to allow them to survive,

In the time of the midwinter there is without.

It’s the coldness, that which keeps us inside doubt;

When we try to keep ourselves fully alive.

It feels as though the world is in a drought.

 

We are not afraid of the dying, we will shout

The shorter days will not conserve to contrive,

In the time of the midwinter there is without.

We are of the stout,

We shall be the ones to survive.

It feels as though the world is in a drought.

After all this time and the sunless rout,

I am left with that the winter’s choose to revive.

In the time of the midwinter there is without,

It feels as though the world is in a drought.

1/2/2014 10:16 am

I doubt that I will post everyday, my daily poem for my Obscure Poetry Month, but while I am off work due to the weather being rather white and fluffy I will post. I work for a company that does construction testing (soils densities and concrete compressive strength); this is the SLOW season. I am enjoying the challenge, so therefore I post.

I am sitting here listening the Mika and now Monkees and thinking about how I want to fill my day.  But right now I have a villanelle that needs to be posted. 

You're probably wondering what a villanelle is, right? Well, Dear Readers a villanelle is a type of renaissance poetry, ballad-like, rooted in Italian verbage (Italian villanella, referring to a rustic song or dance) and has origins in France. Much of the villanelles written were about pastoral topics and/or obsessions. Obsessions? Dylan Thomas is the author of one of the most famous villanelle's out there: "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night" about his plea to his Father to fight for his life. Maybe not really an obsession, or maybe is was. Other famous villanelle composers include: Theodore Roethke and Sylvia Plath. But regardless villanelle's are very sing-songy poems and often more serious and depressing, yet beautifully written. I hope to perfect my villanelle skills after this month. Oh and if I could write music, I might even try putting music to my villanelles. 

Villanelles are harder to write, because you have to be aware of the repeating lines and make sure that they make sense when that get repeated. To be honest, after sonnets, villanelle are my favourite poetic form, because they are so very lyrical.

Made up of 19 lines, 5 tercets (3 lines) and a quatrain (4 lines). Villanelle are powerful poems, I think, because of the repetition; A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2. Today's topic is Sarah McLachlan's "Full of Grace"/shorter days, lack of sunny days/coldness. I dedicate this poem to Natalie Schnick (who gave me the topic). 

I hope you like it, Dear Readers. I could still use some topic for this months project. Leave me a comment and a topic below. I will give you credit for it.

Have a wonderful day, go and make something wonderful and awesome today, and be good to each other.

*pictures courtesy of MorgueFile

A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5796#sthash.1WGcSO5b.dpuf

A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5796#sthash.1WGcSO5b.dpuf

Iambic Pentameter and Beyond

I am going to post a sonnet that I wrote in iambic pentameter. While is not that great (compared to Will's work), it a solid attempt, certainly for a first attempt using iambic pentameter.

See, it is very hard. I am writing a blog for each day this week (a challenge to stretch my mind to it's limits). This means I need to have something to write about each day. Well, then I came up with my Sonnet-a-Day for a month project. I feel like this week I could cross over for seven days. That feels like cheating. I need really content! Today is iambic pentameter day (so decreed by me).

Okay, I am rambling! The sonnet written in iambic pentameter. To give me credit, I did sit down and one. I counted the syllables, stressed and unstressed. It might not be perfect, but I feel that I got what The Bard was going for. It was hard. Yes! REALLY hard! Trying to get the right amount of "Iambic Feet" (a stressed and unstressed syllable) and 5 of them in ONE line. Then to make matters worse, rhyming every other lines. 3 quatrains with rhyme and a couplet.

Wow! I feel literate. After all the the poems I have personally written, or written for various classes over the years, (and that's a lot). Trust me, I feel great! It might be a small accomplishment to some, but to write a sonnet, with rhyme, and in iambic pentameter. That's wow! That's AWESOME!

I am normally used to free verse. I just write and go. When I stick to form, I go for Haiku. They are one of my favourite poetic form. They are easy to write, but also,  eastern thought and eastern poetry makes me happy. While in college I had to write a villanelle and terzanelle for my "Intro to Creative Writing" with prof. Lord. They had a definite form and rhyme scheme. I really took to them. Wikipedia's definition: villanelle is a nineteen-line poetic form consisting of five tercets (3 line stanza) followed by a quatrain (4 line stanza) and the first and third lines repeat thorughout the poem. It's a very song-like form. One could put music to some villanelles. Here is my first attempt at a villanelle back in 1997:

Entity: A Villanelle

Here comes the darkness that engulfs the eyes

in a mass of acrid bile; it burns alive.

All in disguise?

Purely by surprise

among the ancient ruins it does dive,

the darkness that engulfs the eyes.

Of the times, it has tried to die

it never thought to contrive

that it was all in disguise.

Never given a chance to try 

there are now only five

left alive, left of the darkness that engulfs the eyes.

Why all sudden lying?

No longer will it survive,

in the end, it is a disguise.

It rises

and it writhes

the darkness that engulfs the eyes

in all; it is a disguise.

 Dylan Thomas one of the most famous villanelle out there:

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

The other form that I was introduced to in my creative writing class was as a Terzanelle, also a 19 line poem. This is very similar to the villanelle, but with a terzanelle, the middle line of each stanza is repeated as the last line of the next stanza. Likewise, the first and third line of the first stanza repeat in the final quatrain. The Terzanelle also has a rhyme scheme making it also song-like .

A Moment

Jays chatter wild among the trees

they spiral slowly earthward.

I see three

who leap skyward

heading to a warm place.

They spiral slowly earthward--

their tails, delicate like lace,

only blue.

Heading to a warm place

there are only a few

 feathers that fall like heather;

tall and filled of hue.

Cold turns the weather

bitter; it bites the wings.

Feathers that fall like heather

are funny little things.

Jays chatter wild in the trees.

The cold, it bites the wings

and I see three.

Okay, enough of the old college poetry, you came here to read some sonnets. I now I present my  freshly typed sonnet, written in iambic pentameter (first time ever). This sonnet is dedicated to Adichappo, who gave me my first topic in my month of sonnets. It's day two of sonnet month!

Lord Oberon

Oh, thy Fair Face

Oh, thy fair face, that graces my own eye

From the farther oceans you have traveled.

Coasting in to the bay, your tears, they cry--

From the hardest journey that you reveled.

You realize that your world is far from you.

This land is fresh and green from the long rains

And your elfin heart soars at the sky blue

Of the new home you have long sought in vain.

The magic has returned to your slight hands

Now that your feet are on the land once more

And can feel the earthen power, so grand.

That you, gazing across, can feel you soar--

Your home is now amongst my folk and will

Sing together in a harmony still.