Although I usually tend to write rhyming verse, I am now starting to appreciate the different art forms of poetry that there have specific rules. These I have grouped together in what I have called “Proper Poetry”. I have also tried to explain the different formats that I have used, for the reader’s understanding.
Leaf-fall:
vibrant, vivid,
flaming, falling, rustling, dying,
multi-coloured woven carpet:
Autumn.
(Cinquain poem)
5 Lines – not rhyming
1st line – a noun, 2 syllables
2nd line – 2 adjectives descriing the noun, 2 syllables each
3rd line – 3 “……ing”words describing noun, 2 syllables each
4th line – a 4 word phrase about the noun, 2 syllables each
5th line – another word for the noun, 2 syllables
I’ve just been walking in the hills
and there I found some daffodils
blooming below an old oak tree,
but not like those that you would see on window sills.
These were growing wispy and wild,
like I remember as a child.
Golden drifts blowing in the breeze,
nodding gently under the trees, where they were piled.
Mother Nature I have to thank
for the perfume that in I drank,
which fills me with such heartfelt cheer,
seeing it bloom year after year, that golden bank.
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A Florette Poem:- Rhyme scheme a,a,b,ba. Meter 8,8,8,12
Fouth line requirement of internal rhyme b on syllable 8, then rhyme a on syllable 12
This Friday we have had some snow,
it absolutely tipped it down,
it covered up the entire town
and there was nowhere we could go.
They had to bring out the snow plough
to clear the roads where it had blown,
it just kept driving up and down,
but still the roads were full of snow.
The kids all had a day off though.
At least my neighbours didn’t frown,
when hit by snowballs kids had thrown,
or slithered on the ice below
where they trampled their virgin snow!
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Rondel Poem
1. Poem consists of 13 lines in 3 stanzas
2. Rhyme scheme: ABba/abBA/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains)
3. Usually 8 syllables per line
A watery winter sun warmed the westward woods
but no birdsong burst from the bare branched birches.
Hawthorn hedges were hidden in the haze,
yet a feathered fiend had fixed his gaze.
Stiff, silent trees were standing stark;
wide eyes were watching, waiting.
Suddenly from his nest,
gracefully gliding
over frosty fields,
came the barn owl
seeking his
supper
feast.
Then
with a
sudden swoop,
and still no sound
he dived to the ground,
then soared high again,
caught in his claws his catch.
Heading back from whence he came,
silently sweeping through the sky,
flew with his famished family’s feast.
Yet still no whisper from the waiting woods,
the sun sank sadly ‘neath the skies in the west.
Silence, save for sounds of scrunching from the owl ‘s nest.
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Inspired by photographing my friend’s watercolour painting from a picture in the RSPB magazine
Tears fall,
hearts stall,
hesitation dwells:
love quells
fear ends.
Continue reading
Once long ago
you took me to a show.
The hours were short, the minutes sweet,
there were no others to compete.
Once you were a nice boy
– but not now.
Once sometime away
we went out for the day.
We spoke of love, our hearts were sure.
There was no darkness to obscure.
Once you were a nice boy
– but not now.
The birds twittering in the trees suddenly stopped,
the brilliant eyes of the town suddenly dimmed,
all at once the trees heaved their last deep sighs,
the grasses shook their heads –
night fell.
Out into the night shone two alert eyes,
waiting, watching.
Nothing stirred over the vast hillside.
He turned to the west –
all was quiet.
The silent stranger saw with pleasure
the last light suddenly flicker out.
Now was the time for him to start
out on his nocturnal quest –
darkness reigned.
Away he went over the meadows,
slowly, silently,
to the barn where even the rats slept.
This was his destination –
what’s afoot?
Minutes later the stranger reappeared,
sailed gracefully back to the tree.
As another star began to shine –
the owl had flown.
Written in my book of poems I wrote when I was 16
Light show:
awesome, noisy,
flashing, sparkling, crackling, banging,
vibrant Autumn garden display:
Fireworks.
(Cinquain poem)
5 Lines – not rhyming
1st line – a noun, 2 syllables
2nd line – 2 adjectives describing the noun, 2 syllables each
3rd line – 3 “……ing” words describing noun, 2 syllables each
4th line – a 4 word phrase about the noun, 2 syllables each
5th line – another word for the noun, 2 syllables
Green leaves turn to gold,
from crimson to russet brown,
until they gently fall.
Fright night:
wary, scary,
tricking, treating, chilling, thrilling,
ghosties, goulies, witches abound:
Samhain.
(Cinquain poem)
5 Lines – not rhyming
1st line – a noun, 2 syllables
2nd line – 2 adjectives describing the noun, 2 syllables each
3rd line – 3 “……ing” words describing noun, 2 syllables each
4th line – a 4 word phrase about the noun, 2 syllables each
5th line – another word for the noun, 2 syllables
(a Tyburn Poem)
Lifting,
sifting,
drifting,
shifting.
Caressed by Sea’s lifting, sifting hands,
sleep the beaches’ drifting, shifting sands.
A Tyburn Poem = 6 rhyming lines of 2,2,2,2,9,9 syllables. First four lines rhyme, last two lines rhyme and contain the first four lines in 5th through 8th syllables.
This summer we have all been cloaked
and quite often have all got soaked
with rainfall.
It started with the hosepipe ban
and what felt better back then than
some raindrops?
Jubilee in June got well under way,
Just an excuse to all get together,
Jolly festivities on ev’ry day,
Jovialities despite bad weather.
Under our red, white and blue umbrellas,
Unusually gay, we dodged the rain,
Up went gazebos built by our fellers,
Usual barbecue weather again!
Euro ‘12 is on the telly
Everyone HAS to watch it,
Even if you don’t like footie
Each TV channel has got it!
Ugly moves made by ugly men
Umpire awards penalty kick
Umpteen fouls were made, so now then
Under the goalpost kick it quick!
Too much Rain!
(Trois-par-huit poem)
Now at last
the fear of drought has passed.
They can now cancel the hosepipe ban.
We can put away our brand new watering can,
and forget any idea of a summer tan.
It’s never going to stop, it’s plain,
each day we get again
too much rain!
I met her out in Paris, France,
in a bar where I took a glance,
and standing nearby, just by chance,
I saw her dance, I saw her dance.
Some kids have gone to Sunday camp,
they’ve lit a fire, and lit a lamp,
it’s rained for days, their field’s a swamp,
It’s very damp, it’s very damp!
Spring flowers have faded away,
yellow’s gone ’til another day,
leaves on the trees are in full sway.
It must be May! It must be May!
Spring flowers,
days with much longer hours,
buds are sprouting on the bare-branched trees.
Butterflies emerging from the long winter freeze,
flutter around our gardens on the gentle breeze.
Spawn in the pond, frogs have been mating.
Birds all now sit and sing:
“Welcome Spring!”
Now the Winter snow has gone away,
the temperature is higher,
the daffodils raise their heads
and bulbs start sprouting up
ready to burst out
into flower
in time for
pretty
Spring.
A nonet poem has nine descending lines of 9 syllables, then 8,7,6,5,4,3,2 and finally 1. It doesn’t need to rhyme.
