Landay Verse Form

The Landay is a traditional form from Afghanistan. The name means short, poisonous snake in Pashto.

It is an uneven couplet, having nine syllables in the first line and thirteen syllables in the second. There can be as many independent couplets as you wish, but the final one should end with a “ma” or “na” sound.

While the Landay can rhyme, usually it does not. It’s meant to be a sharp, witty poem, generally dealing with such topics as war, grief, separation, and love, and often criticized traditions and gender roles. They were originally meant to be sung, usually by women.

You can find a fascinating article about the Landay and its importance to Afghani women in Poetry Magazine

Okay, I tried to write my Landay using the traditional subjects, but I failed miserably. But my example does follow the nine/thirteen format.


Contrast

A cold wind sweeps inland, waves crashing,
while those with no where else to go shiver in the dark.

The detritus that is left behind —
broken dreams and hard living, scattering like sea shells.

No permanence for the likes of you
move along, move along, don’t let those roots sink too deep.

The rain comes, but our roof does not leak,
it is cold and dark, but we are safe and warm inside.

We are untouched by what lies outside
and turn a blind eye to the tents on federal land.

We take our privilege for granted
saying prayers each night to avoid accruing karma.

Parody

One of my favorite poetry forms is the Parody. This is where you take a familiar, or well-known poem or short piece of prose and change the wording to make it humorous. You get this comic effect by using exaggeration, or spoofing the piece, keeping to the original structure as much as possible.

The first Parody I ever wrote was in high school. To teach us about rhyme and rhythm, our English teacher had us picking a poem with a strong rhythm, I believe the example he used was “How They Brought the Good News From Ghent to Aix” by Robert Browning. We were to write a minimum of three verses using the rhythm of the poem we selected.

For my poem, I chose “The Cremation of Sam McGee” by Robert W. Service. Only I didn’t just write three verses, I rewrote the entire thing, turning it into a Parody and calling it “The Refrigeration of Sam McGee.” The actual assignment wasn’t to write a Parody, just to capture the rhyme and rhythm – what can I say? It was a lot of fun. And I’ve been writing Parodies ever since.

Now, I have a funny story for you. The second poetry reading I ever did took place at a retirement residence. I was so excited that I thought I should write a brand for the occasion. I decided to do a Parody of Shakespeare’s “To Be, Or Not To Be,” turning it into an anecdote about dying my hair. It wasn’t until years later that someone pointed out to me that it might not have been the best poem to read to an elderly audience. The title of my poem? “To Dye or Not To Dye.” Oops!

For my example, I chose Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” and for those of you who may be unfamiliar with this classic poem, I’ve included it below.


The Road Not Taken
By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


The Dessert Not Eaten
By Carol R. Ward

Two desserts lay on the yellow table
And sorry I could not eat them both
And not gain weight, I was unstable,
Staring at cake, dark as sable,
Chocolate, I could never loath.

The other, lemon, sweet cream filled,
Was like to make a dead man drool
Because it was so nicely chilled
And stacked in layers by one skilled;
Truly, each dessert a jewel

And both that morning equally lay
In splendor on that table bright
Oh, to keep one for another day
But no, indulgence starts that way –
my pants are already much too tight.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two desserts upon a table lay, and I—
Rejected both, with a heavy sigh,
And that rejection made all the difference.

Linking Pin Sonnet

The Linking Pin Sonnet was created by Professor Joseph S. Spence, Goodwill Ambassador and creator of the Epulaeryu poetry form.

In the author’s own words: The concept is primarily based on the principles of leadership in accomplishing a mission or task in an organization. This comes by strengthening the organizational echelons at each level, by connecting each element with a linking pin of leadership for strength, thus obtaining maximum productivity in the completion of its goal. One should be able to visualize each linking pin connecting to the next to ensure strength and safety in moving every adjoining part to reach its maximum potential in mission accomplishment. Additionally, the linking pin sonnet, resonates as two lovers on the same sheet of music linking with each other, singing the same song, and moving in the same direction while strengthening each other, for betterment by overcoming obstacles and strengthening their goals with success and victory as one.

I have to admit, I not overly fond of sonnets in general, but I found this one to be both interesting and challenging. It consists of 14 lines, as all sonnets do, but the end of each line links with the beginning of the next line. Each line has eight to eleven syllables, but the rhyme scheme will depend on what kind of sonnet you’re writing: Petrarchan (or Italian) – abba, abba, cdecde; Shakespearean (or English) – abab, cdcd, efef, gg; or Spenserian – abab, bcbc, cdcd, ee.

I like the fact we’re given choices, both in the rhyme scheme and the number of syllables in the lines. I had more fun than I expected to with this form. I followed the Shakespearean style, and I even remembered to carry the link between the stanzas.


Storm Journey

I travelled beneath a lowered sky
Sky in which dark clouds begin to form
Form filled with the grey to quantify
Quantify the coming of the storm.

Storm is hesitating in the air
Air that has become heavy and chill
Chill with a promise, so have a care
Care that needs to be taken until

Until the storm has passed overhead
Overhead where the lightning flashes
Flashes as thunder fills us with dread
Dread that can burn brave souls to ashes

Ashes swept away by pounding rain
Rain that passes, but will come again.



To learn more about this amazing poet, try one of these links:
Atunis Poetry
African American Literature Book Club 

My post about the Epilaeryu  

Treochair

For the last couple of weeks, on my other blog, I was posting a sampling of the poems I came up with for the PAD Challenge (poem a day) I did during the month of April. After careful consideration, I decided to continue doing a poetry post each week and figured I might as well post it on both blogs. So here we go with a new form.

The Treochair seems to be a simple form at first, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to write. It can have as few or as many tercets (three-line stanzas) as you wish. There are three syllables in the first line, seven in the second, and seven in the third. The first and third lines rhyme.

Now, if you want to get really traditional about it, you should use as much alliteration as you can manage. It can also contain cywddydd (harmony of sound) and dunadh (where the beginning and ending of the poem have the same word). To be honest, I was so concerned about getting the rhyme and syllable count right that the rest completely slipped my mind.

Not much of a schematic for you, but here it is:

xxa
xxxxxxb
xxxxxxa

xxc
xxxxxxd
xxxxxxc

… and so forth

And here’s my example:


My Winter Soul

Shuttered eyes;
I escape into dreamtime
even though it is unwise

to hide from
the world instead of facing
what I fear, what makes me numb

When I wake,
dissatisfaction still there
nothing solved, head and heart ache

for something
I cannot see or touch or feel –
my winter soul, never spring

Dinggedicht

This is exciting for me. It’s not often I come across a new form these days but during a somewhat fruitless search for a different form I stumbled across this one. The Dinggedicht is a German form that means literally: poem of things. Points if you’re able to pronounce it. LOL

It’s similar to the Ekphrasis, which is a poem based on another work of art, but in this case it’s the mood, or inner being of the object that’s being written about. And it is not restricted to works of art, the poem is formed by observation of images in the world around you, expressed symbolically; the subject can be drawn from everyday life or current events.

You’d think, considering there’s no rhyme or syllable count, this would be any easy poem to craft. It’s not. It can be very difficult to capture the mood or inner essence of something, which made settling on a subject even more difficult. I’m hoping the subject of my poem would have been obvious even without the title.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Global Warming
The wind scatters your denials
flinging them back at you
ripping your objections up by the roots
only to crush them into splinters.

The siren call of the sea
becomes strident, irritated,
hurling epithets as it slams the shore,
not stopping there but crawling inward
to reclaim the already saturated land
while ignoring the parched earth elsewhere.
The land shudders, heaves, rips apart -
reconfigures itself with no rhyme nor reason.

Fueled by the hot, dry wind
the inferno devours everything in its path
scouring the surface
abrading the skin of the land
until all that is left is ash.

Deny it though you may
the truth is out there
staring you in the face.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

If you’d like to learn more about the Dinggedicht I suggest one of the following links:
Ada's Poetry Alcove
The Collagist
All Poetry

Terzanelle

Well, would you look at that, I actually remembered to repeat my poetry post this week. :-D

This form is a little ... shall we say ... challenging. It was invented by Lewis Turco in 1965, and for those of somewhat familiar with poetry forms, it combines the villanelle’s refrain with the terza rima’s end line patterning. What truly makes it challenging is the number rules for it:

1. It is a fixed form of 19 lines - five triplets and a quatrain.
2. The body is comprised of tercets that each refrain the second line of the preceding tercet for its third line.
3. The first line of each of these tercets is rhymed with its refrained line.
4. The first and third lines of the opening tercet are refrained as the second and fourth lines of the closing quatrain.
5. The closing quatrain refrains the second line of the last tercet as its third line and rhymes its first line with that refrain.
6. Lines may be in any length or meter within reason.
7. Terzanelles may be written on any subject.

Got that now? There’ll be a test later. ;-)


Dragonflight

The wind is sighing through the trees,
The warmth of summer shimmers ‘round;
Magic‘s found in days like these.

A forest pool, a wild playground,
Where water lilies are abloom,
The warmth of summer shimmers ‘round.

A wafting scent of rare perfume;
The air is soft with ambient light
Where water lilies are abloom.

Who directs your soaring flight,
Free spirit wandering where it will.
The air is soft with ambient light.

You dip and weave and fly with skill -
I’d follow if I only could,
Free spirit wandering where it will

I watch you flitter through the wood;
The wind is sighing through the trees.
I’d follow if I only could -
Magic is found in days like these.


If you’d like to learn more about the Terzanelle, try one of the following links:
Shadow Poetry 
Writer's Digest 
The Poet's Garret  
Popular Poetry Forms 

If you give it a try, I’d love to see what you come up with. If you email it to me at carolrward(at)gmail(dot)com, I’ll post it on my writing blog next Wednesday and here on Friday. And if you don’t, then you’re going to be stuck reading a couple of poems that survived junior high school.

How’s that for incentive? :-D

The Blitz

Even if you’re not into poetry, you really need to give The Blitz a try. It’s the most fun you’ll ever have with a poetry form.

The form was invented by Robert Keim. The lines are super short - just a couple of words each. There’s no punctuation and it doesn’t rhyme. The first two lines both start with the same word. Lines 3 and 4 begin with the last word of line 2. Lines 5 and 6 start with the last word of line 4, and so on until you’ve written 48 lines. Line 49 is the last word of line 48, and line 50 is the last word of line 47. The title is only three words - the first word from the 3rd line joined to the first word from the 47th line by a preposition.

When writing a Blitz poem, it helps if you write it as quickly as possible. It’s a lot like one of those word association tests psychiatrists are reported to use, only faster. Give it a try, I guarantee you’ll have lots of fun.


Red With Clouds

Rose in bloom
Rose red
Red queen
Red and white
White as snow
White wine
Wine in a glass
Wine and cheese
Cheese whiz
Cheese log
Log on
Log off
Off and on
Off and running
Running amok
Running late
Late for work
Late in life
Life mate
Life and death
Death comes
Death mask
Mask your feelings
Mask the man
Man and woman
Man alive
Alive and dead
Alive for now
Now and then
Now and again
Again with this
Again with that
This and that
This and the other
Other than that
Other wise
Wise man
Wise woman
Woman rights
Woman power
Power up
Power down
Down town
Down below
Below zero
Below the clouds
Clouds of white
Clouds of blue
Blue
White

Poetry Anyone?

A few years ago I used to have a separate poetry blog and I would repeat the weekly post on this blog, just to share my love of poetry. But then I got away from poetry for a while (you can read the story about why HERE.

I’ve written a few poems over the last few years but haven’t shared many until Jamie and I did our poem a day challenge in April. It brought back fond memories of poetry, and gave me the urge to do more with my poetry going forward.

I decided I’d start including a poetry post once a week on Writing Blog and then I thought, why not repeat it here like I was doing before? Therefore, the first Friday of the month (Wednesday on the writing blog) will feature a poetry form, the following Fridays will be just random poems - some new, some old, some of my old favorites.

So... without further ado, I’d like to share this month’s form, the sestina.

The sestina was one of the most challenging forms I’ve ever encountered. It has 39 lines in total, divided into six verses of six lines each, and a three line envoi at the end. Sounds easy enough, right? Especially since it doesn’t have to rhyme. But here’s the thing. You start off by coming up with six words, and each of these words is used as a end word of one line in each of the six verses and the order changes in each verse.

For my sestina, I used the words: truth, grave, life, night, death, and stone.

Night Dweller’s Truth

In every breath there is a truth
that overshadows every grave,
a truth not found within a life
that shines its beacon into night,
a knowledge brought about by death
and graven into hardest stone.

A thought that’s carved in precious stone
contains what we perceive as truth,
unsuppressed by certain death,
as cold and alien as the grave,
deep and dark as empty night
just before it bursts to life.

If I’d but know how sweet is life,
not just a pathway strewn with stone,
perhaps I’d not embraced the night
that fills me with its awful truth
and takes me far beyond the grave
out of reach of even death.

And what is that which we call death?
Perhaps another way of life,
the end is more than just the grave,
a fresh turned mound that’s capped with stone.
Perhaps we’ll never know the truth
before we pass into the night.

Come and share this sweetest night
where we can stand abreast of death,
and we will seek the perfect truth
of what is that which we call life
that gathers round us like a stone
and leads us blindly to the grave.

You look at me with visage grave -
accept my words, accept the night,
accept that fate’s not carved in stone.
Turn away from Lady Death,
her promise of the afterlife,
and know what’s in my heart is truth.

We’ll find our truth without the grave
and make our life within the night,
then vanquish death with shattered stone.



If you’d like to learn more or better yet, try your hand at your own sestina, here are a couple of sites that I’ve found helpful in the past:

Baymoon
The Poetry Foundation
Shmoop