The second six months of format challenges set by Paul Brookes.
Week 27 - Huitain
Guidelines for the huitain:
8-line stanza
ababbcbc rhyme scheme
Usually 8 to 10 syllables per line
Daffodil
At last we wake to pleasant warmth
and daffodils that nod and dance
drink gentle rain from softer earth
as they live out a further chance
to preen before the poet's glance -
each a mirror of the other -
falling in a springtime trance
whispered to a famous brother
Week 28 - Tautogram
All words begin with the same letter.
Hunt
Here!
hard hats, hard hearts;
hurrahing, harumphing,
hurdling high hedges.
Hark! horns,
hot, hungry hounds
hysterically howling.
Hurry! Hurry!
Hunted hobbles
home,
her helpless haven,
hackles high, hurt,
hardly hiding.
Hating, haunting,
heraldic houses -
human Heaven
hosting horrific Hell.
A TV Astonomer Visits Hospital After an Accident
Xylophone xenophobe x-rayed
Animals
Anthony, an anteater,
ate abundant ants. An aardvark, Alan,
also ate ants - armies and armies -
against aesculapian advice.
Anthony and Alan are
arch-enemies. Anger and angst
always abound as Alan and Anthony
amble around.
Are all animals as abrupt, as adversarial?
After all, aren't anteaters and aardvarks
alike? Armadillos also.
Ah, alphabetically akin, an anteater,
an aardvark and an armadillo are
antithetic.
And Anthony, Alan and armadillo Andrew
await Armageddon, antagonistic animals
always. Arseholes.
Week 29 - Magic9
This 9-line poem doesn't have any rules as far as meter or subject matter--just a rhyme scheme: abacadaba.
First line stolen from "Darkness" by Byron.
Universe
She was the Universe;
his stars and sun, he did not choose
to slowly nurse
this unrequited love;
his very being immersed
deep in this poisoned well,
each minute of each hour was worse
but no cloying blackness made him lose
this love that was his curse.
Week 30 - Cascade
The lines in the first stanza are used once at the end of each following stanza, in sequence.
Easter Day
The sun is out on Easter Day
to light the path that skirts the lake
to bring the flowers and trees awake -
to help us find a better way.
Cold winter rains have soaked the clay
and puddles lie across the tracks
but we can leave our anoraks -
the sun is out on Easter Day!
The cyclists leave us in their wake
strong scents attract a happy dog
a beam breaks through the morning fog
to light the path that skirts the lake.
on rippling water glinting bright
as springtime rain and sun unite
to bring the flowers and trees awake
but as we contemplate this day
there's too much fear keeps us apart
if we step back to trust our hearts
and help us find a better way.
Week 31 - Kimo
10-7-6 syllables
Two Seats
Two seats are turned toward the setting sun;
Empty as the hope of peace.
Time is fast running out.
Week 32 - Triolet
Old Cliffs
Old cliffs of white, so very sad,
crumbled by waves of modernity
We don't like change, it makes us mad!
old cliffs of white, so very sad.
And what is more, we'd all be glad
if they stayed like this for eternity
Old cliffs of white, so very sad,
crumbled by waves of modernity.
Week 33 - Tricube
curls around
goes to sleep
Cat gets up
stretches out
eats its meat
Cat lies down
closes eyes
goes to sleep
Here's a challenge to all of you;
something for you to try.
Mine lost his life so very young
a patriot to the core
He wrote of horrors he had seen
and told the truth of war.
Leaden legs and nerves in tatters
he steps forward, spins the ball
places it on the spot
to be hero or
villain of this
beautiful
stupid
game.
Pole to Pole
ice packed
travelling relentlessly
days and nights, through biting insects (and deserts),
people smiling about unsure animals,
borders crossed
- equator -
crossed borders,
animals unsure about smiling people!
Deserts, and insects biting, through nights and days
relentlessly travelling
packed ice
Pole to Pole.
Legendary is Palin.
Nine syllables in the first four lines
Ten syllables in the final two lines
Lines 1, 2, 3, 4, and 6 end rhyme
drifting to the house where MPs meet
from rest they come, drawn by pure deceit;
the obfuscation and lies that cheat
them of an answer; they must wait and see
if truth can free us from this mad elite.
there are no clouds to mask the deep blue sky
A cloud is rare across the deep blue sky,
the ground is dry and vegetation browns;
in dry brown ground the vegetation dies.
Sucking in the treacle-air we sweat
In treacly air we soak ourselves in sweat
our skin is burnt and and our lips are cracked
with cracked lips we cry for burning skin
and lack of water in our empty taps.
The water has been tapped, a lack
of hope that rain will ever come.
The rain will never come, not now,
and every day the earth is hotter than the last.
Greenway
Trees hide us from its burning / leaves dapple the floor
Nettle-smell rises upward / the robin's head tilts
Trains came here, steam-soot filled air / fragmented in time
so big
you can see each one
before their cloud-cold
stings your skin.
And turning of light
the born leaves;
And on slowly awake foxes
about time the songs, pheasants, easy dark few
honoured the morning.
Holy as lamb and grace
sang to green chimneys
and carefree his cold fled the young
famous house wanderer.
Rivers sleep ran easy;
time and moon shining
as thronged from over grass the spinning play.
My horses, the children, nightjars follow lovely farm
high the Nor was and starry white. Golden time
warm over under was bearing in below;
was happy and pebbles singing lordly Adam.
Once the night that sun wagons come let
as new of the eyes made
golden high calves as such green days.
And so his streams, tunes, yard of the sabbath maiden
swallow stable of green
among the owls, daisies, horses walking I held
sky, sun, birth the white of Nothing.
A good deal of the literature of the past was, indeed, already being
excellent and neighbourly speech. Mr. Pilkington had referred,
transformed in this way, considerations of
throughout to "Animal Farm." He could not of course know-for he,
prestige made it desirable to preserve the memory of certain
Napoleon, was only now for the first time announcing it-that the name
historical figures, while at the same time bringing
"Animal Farm" had been abolished. Henceforward the farm was to be
their achievements into line with the philosophy of Ingsoc.
known as "The Manor Farm"-which, he believed,
Various writers, such as Shakespeare, Milton, Swift, Byron,
was its correct and original name. "Gentlemen," concluded Napoleon, "I will give you the same toast as
Dickens, and some others were therefore in process of
before, but in a different form. Fill your glasses to the brim. Gentlemen, here is my
translation: when the task had been completed, their original
toast: To the prosperity of The Manor Farm! "
Writings, with all else that survived of the literature
There was the same hearty cheering as before, and the mugs were
of the past, would be destroyed. These translations were
emptied to the dregs. But as the animals outside gazed at the scene,
a slow and difficult business, and it was not expected that
it seemed to them that some strange thing was happening. What was it
they would be finished before the first or second decade of
that had altered in the faces of the pigs? Clover's old dim eyes flitted
the twenty-first century. There were also large quantities
from one face to another. Some of them had five chins, some had four,
of merely utilitarian literature—indispensable technical manuals -
some had three. But what was it that seemed to be melting
and the like—that had to be treated in the same way.
and changing? Then, the applause having come to an end, the company took up.
It was chiefly in order to allow time for the preliminary work of
their cards and continued the game that had been interrupted, and the
translation that the final adoption of Newspeak had been
animals crept silently away.
Fixed for so late a date as 2050
the creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and
from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say
Week 43
I weave through the
short cut, the rat run,
where the men ran
from mounted batons.
Narrow, winding roads
bear the brunt
of muscular 4x4s
that now taxi kids
to school
over land that saw
the fist of State
crash into the face
of Justice.
Lives pass in perfect
box houses
and dogs are walked
on red tracks, sniffing
as if they smell the
long dried blood.
Where tabloids spun
their web of lies
the turbines spin;
the memories
are fading now
to black and white
The pit wheels stopped
but turning still
the old film reel
the men in graves
until history proves
just who was right
Old film of bloodied men, bare chested,
Run from horses, clashing shields
Green stained with red plays in my mind
Round turned the wheels until they slowed
Each stopping as the film stops now
And turns to turbines, offices and homes.
Victory was theirs; it crushed to dust
Each memory of those that fought.
drew blood on unarmed working men.
We see old film, memories
fade now to black and white
flicker, flicker slow
and stop, replaced
by picture
perfect
homes.
where men once ran from punch and kick;
caught on film, this army in retreat
scattered like our memories that fade
into these perfect houses, clean and neat;
my car wheels turn, the pit wheels stopped
a brutal and insidious defeat
lost in time and rendered obsolete.
Week 44 - Cherita
stanza verse, followed by a two-line verse,and then finishing with a three-line verse.
faint crackling
heat massaging the air
Shouting, running, screaming
fire circling
choking blackened lungs
3 stanzas
Each stanza is followed by a refrain
First stanza is 6 lines long and presents a problem
Second stanza is 8 lines long and explores or expands the problem
Third stanza is 6 lines long and either presents a solution or documents the failed attempt to resolve the problem
feel it in our coughing lungs
spewing from our chimneys and our cars.
Norwegian trees were poisoned,
depletion of the ozone layer;
I've got my life to live, things to do. Use a bus?
I can't cope without my lovely car
or heating on all year round,
my food and goods on groaning ships
steaming halfway round the world.
Online meetings? I'd rather fly abroad
and take my holidays in the sun.
Pay more tax? Don't make me laugh!
but when people make a move
in orange dust or Superglue, or make new laws
we don't like that, oh no, you can't
do that. Do something else, write to your MP.
Maybe it's a hoax. They hope it is.
The chueh-chu is a Chinese poetic form that Robin Skelton's The Shapes of Our Singing claims translates to mean "sonnet cut short." As such, it does act a bit like an eight-line sonnet broken into two quatrains.
Here are three possible rhyme schemes suggested by Skelton:
- aaba/cada
- abcb/dbeb
- aaba/aaca
Eighteen
They came to me in the night, the eighteen,
in the thin darkness of July, unseen
except for their lights, dipped in unison
towards me; they are blackened, I am clean.
I wish I could see their faces, hear words
lost to me in time's unrelenting stream.
Their lamps are fading now, they flicker out
as they lie down in an eternal seam.
Week 47 - Dansa
Here are the guidelines for writing the dansa:
- Opening quintain (or 5-line stanza) followed by quatrains (or 4-line stanzas)
- The opening line of the first stanza is the final line of every stanza, including the first
- Rhyme scheme in the opening stanza: AbbaA (capital A represents the refrain)
- Rhyme scheme in all other stanzas: bbaA
El viento es el alma del dia
The wind is the soul of our day
It batters at our windows in the night
then hides itself when dawn breaks bright
leaving ruined havoc on the ground
The wind is the soul of our day
There's little we can do to win the fight
when hurricanes arrive; just fright or flight
as against our homes it beats and pounds
The wind is the soul of our day
But on a summer's day when winds are light
we long for breeze to bring us some respite
The wind is the soul of our day
It drives our turbines with its endless might
pushes at our sails and lifts our kites
our ally and our foe all year round
the wind is the soul of our day.
Week 48 - Rannaigheact mhor
An Irish quatrain form with a lot of rules for only 28 syllables
Rannaigheact Mhor Poem There are actually several different rannaigheacts, whito say hello ch are Irish quatrains. Guidelines for the rannaigheact mhor: Quatrain with an abab rhyme scheme, including consonant end sounds Heptasyllabic lines, or 7 syllables per line At least 2 cross-rhymes in each couplet of each quatrain Final word of line 3 rhymes with interior of line 4 At least 2 words alliterate in each line Final word of line 4 alliterates with preceding stressed word Final sound of poem echoes first sound of poem (common for Irish forms)
Sea Creatures
Mantas glide where sharks and whales
flick their tails and lurk around;
great oceans pound and harsh gales
are veiled below; life abounds
where cold sleepy currents flow
and fish glow in darkest deep;
the sea heat creeps and we know
that what we sow we will reap.
Week 49 - Espinela
The
espinela is a Spanish poetic form with two stanzas and four end rhymes
across 10 lines. It's named after poet Vincente Espinel, who is credited
with inventing it. Here are the guidelines:
First stanza has four lines.
Second stanza has six lines.
Eight syllables per line.
Rhyme scheme is abba/accddc.
If it feels like you've heard these rules and tried an espinela before,
it's likely that you have because this form is also known as a decima.
With a nod to Wendy Cope's 'The Uncertainty Of The Poet' poem. The first line is translated from 'Me tiraste un limon' by Miguel Hernandez.
Bitter Lemon
Hands threw you a lemon; me, pure from bitter.
A pure lemon threw me; from you, bitter hands.
From me, lemon-pure hands, a bitter you threw.
Line 1: 8 syllables with an a rhyme
Line 2: 8 syllables with an a rhyme
Line 3: 5 syllables with a b rhyme
Line 4: 5 syllables with a b rhyme
Line 5: 3 syllables with a b rhyme
Line 6: 3 syllables with an a rhyme
will strut and peck, fly up and down
with a blue-black flash
they will guard their cache;
golden stash;
September starts so very hot
Ice cream sellers making hay
on a seventh record heatwave day.
Do I like it? Not a lot.
while we perspire and mope around
our nights are blighted as we drown
in sweat, we yearn for skies of grey
while we perspire and mope around;
for when the mists and fog descend
and hide the sun for days on end
on dismal days, for rain to pound;
For when the mists and fog descend
winter starts with sliding ice
and snow, with roads we dice;
I wish this bloody cold would end.
Winter starts with sliding ice
September starts so very hot
June is cold, it's gone to pot
Why can't every day be nice?
Ice cream sellers making hay
on a seventh record heatwave day.
Do I like it? Not a lot.
