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Rhymey words and stuff
TinPenguin:
A word is worth a thousand pictures!
Are there many writers and/or poets here? Let's see what you've got! Or if not, well, I shall bore you with mine.
Viennese Chess
The music begins with a tap of the foot,
And the dancers glide out across the floor.
With a bow and a curtsey, and hand in gloved hand,
In double file procession, as if to war.
The waltzing parade pours over the room,
Flowing like water through a river's weir.
Elegant grace and a surgeon's precision,
Spinning like blades and leaping like deer.
In pairs they whirl, each to their own dance,
But in synchronised steps they cohere and unite.
The men tall and smart in long black dinner suits,
Their fair partners swirling in ballgowns of white.
Like chess pieces battling on the chequered floor,
The tiles divided into boards, eight by eight.
Each white maiden a queen, each black warrior a king,
Each queen entrapping her partner - checkmate.
Elysiana:
It makes me so, so happy that this can be recited in 3/4 (waltz) time. If you meant to do that - kudos on the attention to detail.
I am no good with words and especially no good at poetry, so that's all I really have to contribute :)
TinPenguin:
--- Quote from: Elysiana on 01 Jul 2011, 11:04 ---It makes me so, so happy that this can be recited in 3/4 (waltz) time. If you meant to do that - kudos on the attention to detail.
--- End quote ---
I must be honest and admit it was not deliberate - but I was inspired to write it while watching a Viennese waltz, so I was listening to waltz music when writing it, and that might have bled through to the rhythm. :wink: A similar case of serendipity was the title. I wrote this poem comparing Viennese waltz with chess, and then, when trying to think of a good title, discovered there is actually a style of chess called Viennese Chess. The moment I read that, I knew I had to use it!
Here's another.
Forget Me Not
A stirring in the rafters of a memory long gone,
An infestation long forgotten, now returned.
The hatching of a scratching patter, needling at the mind,
Reminder of the way the winds have turned.
And ne'er before was it so loud, not even at the first,
In silence it has grown as it was spurned.
A neglected part of you, that you thought was weeded out
And yet now that you've moved on begins to burn.
A nettlesome regret as you seek to find your peace,
The overdue reprise you know you earned.
"I won't be left behind!" howls the memory maligned,
Reminder of a lesson never learned.
Carl-E:
I like this, it's an excellent image of the mess that is my mind...
It also reminds me of what happened in the house my grandfather built. It wound up with a serious squirrel infestation in the attic space, and we all worked hard to get them out. Several years later, after my grandparents passed, while my parents were doing some simple renovations, the bedroom closet's ceiling collapsed under the weight of several thousand hoarded pinecones.
Remember to clean out those nests, folks! There can be literal regrets, too... :psyduck:
tjradcliffe:
Delightful! Always a pleasure to meet a fellow formalist!
Most of my own poetry is written in collaboration with the artist Hilary Farmer:
http://greenteadoodles.wordpress.com
Here's a typical example, illustrating (narrating?) an image of a teenage girl looking out through a leafy veil:
Eyes of innocence observe the scene
through grassy stalks: the rites of springtime may
be misinterpreted the first time seen
by virgins who have yet to boldly stray
into those woods of pleasure and deceit
that lurk beyond the garden’s grassy wall
where satyrs chase their willing prey’s retreat
though the sunlit corridors and halls
of Pan’s dominion where the truth will out
that pleasures of the spirit may be great
but pleasures of the flesh–beyond a doubt–
can justify the body’s mortal fate.
In innocence and wisdom still she knows
That down those paths she will one day go.
(original image here: https://greenteadoodles.wordpress.com/2010/12/15/pretty-girl/)
Sonnets are my favourite form, although I play with everything from haiku to blank verse, and on very rare occasions will even take a poke at free verse, although playing tennis without a net is trickier than it looks...
Our big project right now is an illustrated Web serial novel about Sir Francis Drake's plan to colonize the Northwest Pacific Coast, and what REALLY happened to Christopher Marlowe after he "died":
http://www.songsofalbion.com
It's an attempt to do for the novel what QC does for Webcomics, telling an extended multi-character story in illustrated 140-word segments, updated Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Check it out! Our audience is kind of a select group, with intersecting interests in Webcomics, poetry, and historical fantasy.
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