The first 6 months of Paul Brookes' weekly format challenge. Each week suggests a different poetic form. Some of the formats appeal, some don't and some definitely don't suit my style. But it's a good intellectual challenge, it kept me writing when I'd gone off the boil and sometimes you get one that really works.
Week 1 - Sestina
Rolihlahla
You took your long walk to freedom
inside your cell of twenty seven years.
Did you, alone in all your darkest nights
ever lose your will and give up hope?
Close your eyes and wish to never wake?
Or did you always know the dawn would come?
Rolihlahla, how did you come
to be the one to lead your land to freedom,
shake the branches of the tree and wake
the world that let you rot for all those years?
Become the one who gave us hope
that sunny days can follow darkest nights.
In your tiny room, alone at night,
did visions of a new land come
and go, new ideas, plans, and hopes?
Dreams of millions yearning freedom
after grinding years
of servitude and pain. Could you wake
the fervour that once kept you awake
when like a shadow in the night
you poked your rulers for so many years?
You knew that one day they might come
and smash your door, steal your freedom
for a final time, their cruel hope
was to extinguish any hope;
hold no funeral, no wake,
just a fist to crush your freedom
so they could sleep at night
and when their morning came
their power would be safe for all their years.
But you knew better; twenty seven years
their game was up and hope
had won the day, you came
exultant from the open gates, no longer weak
or chained, the bravest knight
had slain a dragon, given back their freedom.
Freedom springs from hope
when years pass like nights
and, when we wake, a fresh dawn comes
Week 2 - Acrostic
Blood Roar
Mouth that roars in blood,
Ignites a flame, burns slowly,
Gathers its own momentum.
Under the heel of the oppressor
Each must speak their own blood,
Light their own flame.
He spoke in blood and fire,
Expected nothing, hoped for more.
Raged like the wounded bull,
Never healed his wounds.
Armed himself with words.
Never held back his love.
Death crept slowly to his door,
Entered and stole his soul. Only
Zeal and love remained.
Autumn
Assume, just once, that Autumn
U-turned at December's lukewarm
Touch. No friendly bienvenu,
Unfeeling cold its only gift.
Maybe time could turn and say adieu;
Neverending, sweet and golden Autumn aura.
Week 3 - Pantoum
White Giant
We watch them, fascinated by their skin,
their odd-shaped head and tiny eyes.
Slowly munching, grass and brush,
unimpressed by what they saw.
Their odd-shaped head and tiny eyes
watching us, though nearly blind,
unimpressed by what they saw -
these weird two-legged freaks!
Watching us, though nearly blind,
do they know that, on these trucks,
these weird two-legged freaks
are the biggest danger in their world?
Do they know that, on these trucks,
we don't hide the fact that we
are the biggest danger in their world,
and yet their fate seems sealed.
We don't hide the fact that we
try our best to save them all
and yet their fate seems sealed;
because we have no answer.
Try our best to save them all?
We slowly drive into the dusk.
Because we have no answer,
another species slips away
their odd shaped heads
their tiny eyes
their missing horn
Week 4 - Alphabet
Maneuvers
Armies are out on maneuvers
Battlefield lines being drawn
Constantly under bombardment
Death and disease is the norm
Each soldier has their own home town
Families waiting for news
God gets his quota of prayers
Hoping there's nothing to lose
In wishing for intervention
Just protection to bring them home
Kill or be killed is the mantra
Leaves scars running deep to the bone
Moved like pawns on a chess board
Nudged forward one space at a time
Or sacrificed one for another
Pretending it isn't a crime.
Queens and Kings, bishops and castles
Rulers might finally fall
Simply replaced by another
That wishes revenge for them all
Until more young soldiers are ready
Victory lies the refrain
When hatred gets the blood flowing
Xenophobia wins once again.
Youth watches its blood leak away
Zealots thrive while families pray.
Week 5 - Dizain
Shining Road
From clouded mountain, prison cells and wine
we shared the driving on the shining road.
Salt tang our taste as senses intertwine;
a taste of loss, of flux, as asphalt glowed
where time slipped by and memories grew cold.
The Great Whites drifted ever South, as we,
our compass pointed to the East, broke free
where mountain passes, plains and fields pretend
that they care nothing for the dying sea
and we both knew where this hard road might end.
Week 6 -Sijo
Park
We walk as autumn sun retreats, softly warming leaf strewn paths
Zig-zag the mossy nailed-wood fence. Sunlight glints on many eyes;
Hyena smile, tigers yawn, lions stretch out, meerkats stand tall.
Week 7 - Bob and Wheel
Halloween
Pumpkins
in fogged October skies
weird lop-sided grins
gleaming with Devil's eyes.
Such darkness hides within.
Week 8 - Awdl Gywydd
Do you miss the old black bins?
all rubbish in, no sifting?
No purple/green confusion;
what day's it on? Unsporting!
How much did we throw away
on every day, not caring
that we leave such dirty tracks;
our planet cracks, despairing.
Week 9 - Bref Double
Gone
I try to follow in her tracks
they melt and disappear
I don't know if it's love or not,
except inside my head.
I try to follow scents and trails
with senses that I lack
but she is nowhere to be found;
I feel a constant dread
and search in all her favourite spots;
the places she once loved.
The cafes, river walks and cliffs;
I read the books she read.
But words will never bring her back
from sprouting grass where flowers rot.
Week 10 - Trinitas
Antiwoke antibiotics
You need to sort that out, he said,
it looks bit too red
I laughed, another project fear
like Covid, climate change. Misled!
but I thought it would disappear
and now I'm stuck in bed.
The earth is warming, is it hell!
it's 'flu', we should just chill
There's yellow pus in there as well
and I'm starting to feel ill
My immunity will save me, cock
I'm not a soft snowflake
Don't worry said the smiling doc
I'll sort it with a pill
But we've been lazy, we forget
the pain of past mistakes.
Week 11 - Blitz Poem
Pride and Honour
Wear your badge
Wear it with pride
Pride is passion
Pride should not divide
Divide the people
Divide the world by fear
Fear drives us all
Fear keeps them in power
Power is darkness
Power in the hands of liars and criminals
Criminals and murderers hiding in plain sight
Criminals with a smiling mask
Mask their actions with a
Mask of Godliness
Godliness counts for nothing when
Godliness makes lives worse
Worse in body
Worse in spirit
Spirit can and will be crushed
Spirit that could shine a light
Light on your smashed door
Light that blinds your eyes
Eyes covered while other
Eyes watch you through darkened dystopian windows
Windows are absent where you are taken
Windows would let you see
See into your inner being
See the pumping of your blood
Blood of your land
Blood of your sex
Sex is wicked
Sex is your shame
Shame is the bedrock of our being
Shame bears down on your body like a stone
Stone measures the depth of their hate
Stone them all
All who fail to follow
All who do not comply
Comply
Comply now
Now is the time to act
Now or never
Never is a very long time
Never to see your family again
Again we watch and hope that
Again the world will show honour
Honour your courage
Honour will bring respect
Respect
Courage
Week 12 - Curtal Sonnet
Christmas
Cold withers us and skies grow heavy grey;
the nights draw dark and winter's hand takes hold
of children in their fleecy coats and gloves
who long for time to pass 'til Christmas Day.
They play their parts with gifts of scents and gold
in stories from the Holy Land relived.
But do these stories have a message now?
A planet torn by war, our conscience cold?
How can a deity who sits above
convince all people that they must allow
capacity for love?
Week 13 - Haiku Sonnet
City Winter
Skies darken early
Frost sparkles in city lights
Gentle sleet falling
Air still, cold, hardens the ground
Dresses cars in white
Padding in fresh snow
Footprints stop; keen pink nose sniffs
Cat finds a way home
Hiding in shadow
Sleeping on merciless streets
Wrapped in old newsprint
Stars and planets still revolve
The morning sun can't wake him
Week 14 - Golden Shovel
Ruins
When a civilisation falls, we observe these
events from distance; see reflections, find fragments
of lives that leave ghost-shadows. Lives that you or I
can't comprehend, rocks and dust and skeletons that have
stopped dancing. We fail to see ourselves; we have shored
our own minds against death. We try to push against
the forces of time and space. Where is my
salvation now? What thoughts are left but ruins?
Chickens
Week 15 - Rhupunt
Heavens
A setting sun
whose work is done
lets colours run
from dark of night
The ancient stars
shine from afar
a sky of tar
timeless delight
The planets show
their route they know
a steady glow
from dim to bright
They mark our days
our months, our ways
and always stay
within our sight
Week 16 - Virelai
The Monster
When there is no shame
and it's all a game
of personal fame
and lies
it is we who pay
when they hide away
and we know that they
despise
the people they con
by fake lexicon
while their eyes are on
the prize
With his empty eyes
he'll appear to try
to apologize
but he
has an empty heart
while he plays his part
rips some lives apart
with glee.
But what can we do
to point out what's true
as he laughs at you
scot-free.
Week 17 - Katuata
FishPlunge into cold sea.
A soul is cleansed. Will silver
darting fish flee or stay?
Cantona
When sardines aren't thrown
into the sea do seagulls
follow you or become lost?
Desert
White elephants stand
in the desert. Watch the past
fade. Will the blood ever dry?
Rocks
If I fall and crash
onto these salty sharp rocks
will you finally move on?
Week 18 - Rinnard
Cold Wind Howling
A cold wind is howling
across a bleak country
where lean wolves are growling
and hungry for vengeance.
But where are the people
who pray in our churches?
Look to God in steeples
and don't see the paupers.
Let's treasure the homeless
and feed all the migrants
reject all the soulless
and welcome all humans.
For doctors, for nurses,
for drivers, and porters;
dip into your purses
and thank them for kindness.
So come all ye faithful
and gather, you pagans;
reach out and be grateful
for all of your riches.
Week 19 - Trimeric
StoatThe stoat slips through the jagged fence;
darting across the frozen field
her coat has not yet fully changed
to match the freshly fallen snow.
Darting across the frozen field
she sniffs the icy air and scampers on
to look for food within the farmer's barn.
Her coat has not yet fully changed;
its reddish brown is flecked with white
but soon she will be hiding in plain sight
to match the freshly fallen snow
and clear-air frosts that January brings;
until she fades to brown again in Spring.
Week 20 - Endecha
Righteous
after Miguel Hernandez - "Adiós, hermanos, camaradas y amigos.
Despedidme del sol y de los trigos"
Final breaths rattle; chains tie
more skin than flesh, you have lost
your battle as war rages
far away, where others also bear the cost.
As you scrawl your final words
on prison walls, death trains roll.
In fascist plays, roles are cast,
innocents despatched, and Europe pays the toll.
Goodbye, brothers, comrades, friends:
my own fate is surely sealed;
I tried, I failed, now it's time
to let me take my leave of sun and fields.
Breath has gone, cold lungs at rest;
eastward iron wheels still spin.
Leaders play their games of chess
but with fortitude, a righteous heart will win.
Week 21 - Masnavi
Night Fox
In the cold light of day, troubles fade away
but when you try to sleep, from your soul they creep
and claw into your brain, drizzle turns to rain
your confidence will crack, grey dissolves to black.
Ticking like a clock, stalking like a fox,
this creature of the night won't draw blood or bite;
its terror is far worse than a witch's curse
the future that it shows causes fear to grow
and when you think it's done, here's another one
more heinous than the last; in whose grip you'll twist.
You're praying for the sun, dawn's relief to come
but then you think again; that just brings more pain,
problems in its wake, the cycle you can't break.
Week 22 - Toddaid
Split
We stroll together on a winter's day
with no hint that anything has changed.
Where the icy footpath splits apart our
drifting souls and hearts become estranged.
Week 23 - Tripadi
Lines of cars stop-start in sequence;
traffic lights an inconvenience.
The sun peers out to watch us start our day.
Mustn't be late in the office,
start on time, tap keys in chorus;
be seen to be at work's the only way.
Never mind how good your work is,
we sit here in this sterile circus
where tigers swapped with sheep all earn their pay.
Forget about your work-life balance!
Don't you dare encourage talent!
Distrust the colourful, reward the grey.
Watch the office clock tick over
Could it really go much slower?
At five o'clock we pack our things away.
In the car we feel like crying
Every day's a bit more dying
As we inch home the evening light decays.
Week 24 - Quatern
If
If I died unexpectedly
a heart attack perhaps, or stroke;
some medical emergency
swallowing food that made me choke
would anybody make a fuss?
If I died unexpectedly
I'm fit enough but I could be
hit by a car, a train, or bus.
Where would all my money be?
all passwords hide inside my head.
If I died unexpectedly
those bank accounts might too be dead.
Your life is in the cloud, you say;
a facebook page just history.
My digital life wiped clean away
If I died unexpectedly
Cold
The cold has come again this year,
each passing day we felt it steal
into our fingers, toes and lips,
and then into our throats and lungs.
It is a shock to all how soon
the cold has come again this year;
between the harvest and the snow
we felt no time had passed at all.
We spent relentless days and nights
in homes that barely kept it out;
the cold has come again this year
and takes a living harvest home.
My mother, father, sister now
all burnt to ash that stained the snow.
The ground's too hard to dig their graves.
The cold has come again this year.
Week 25 - Idiomatic Poetry
Sticky Wicket
He was on a sticky wicket
the field was closing in
he'd dug in as much as he could do
with a straight bat he might win.
He didn't want to hole out
down a fielder's throat
you play each delivery as it comes
if you want to be the GOAT
Make sure you cover up the gate
to keep the googly out
watch the yorker in the blockhole
deny the "Howzat" shout.
He wasn't playing cricket
politics was his game
he'd found that cricket metaphors
helped deflect the blame...
Week 26 - Mathematical poetry
1.4142135623746...
So.
They said I was
irrational;
that I was wasting
my time
seeking
something where I
would spend my whole life
as some kind of heroic failure,
laughing stock,
lost in numbers,
an infinity of digits with no pattern
but as time passes
I find I just can't stop...
Pie
No matter how big your family
you can never get
an equal slice of Pi
Square
They took him to the square -
the centre of a town
in France, a small scared boy
in soldiers' clothes who ran
and then, by order of
the King, they mowed him down.
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