Tonight Mish hosts at the pub and wants us to “wrap” things up in a quadrille.
A Quadrille is simply a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. It can be in any form, rhymed or unrhymed, metered, or unmetered. You MUST use the word “wrap”, or some form of the word, in your poem.
Merril hosts at dVerse and wants us to “celebrate” in a quadrille.
Some couples do celebrate their divorce amicably.
A Quadrille is simply a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. It can be in any form, rhymed or unrhymed, metered, or unmetered. You MUST use the word “celebrate”, or some form of the word, in your poem.
This life is made, with intangible string My traits and gait by Fate compiled A certain butterfly is already on the wing I emerge from the cocoon voicing the wild
Thread in Lachesis clime Will be lost in time
When born the days ahead seem vast Each stich becomes a memory vapor Yet all too soon those years are past I voice them all, on pixels, on paper
Of Atropos’ domain Like tears in rain
I must go in for the fog is rising My words will speak for me beyond the snuff Always verbally enterprising Last words are for fools who haven’t said enough
Laura Bloomsbury tends the bar and invites us to write a “deathbed,” poem with the inclusion of a quote from a selection provided. Typical of Muse – using just “a” quote wasn’t an option.
The following are in my take on the prompt where Fate/Moira may control my body but my voice will live on.
“All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain” -Roy Batty, Blade Runner “A certain butterfly is already on the wing.” -Vladimir Nabokov “I must go in for the fog is rising” -Emily Dickinson “Last words are for fools who haven’t said enough.” -Karl Marx
Tonight at the pub Sanaa, aka adashofsunnya enchants or id that hexes us to spell out a quadrille.
A quadrille, is simply a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. It can be in any form, rhymed or unrhymed, metered, or unmetered. You MUST use the word “spell” or some form of the word in your poem. I do it acrostically.
They sit on the roof drinking in the sight Of diamonds twinkling in the witching hour Alone at last on this shortest night A blanket is beneath them, but heat scours
Tar and flowers scent this roof top tower Fingers follow trails on skin damp with sweat Where light cotton clothes have little power And their slow loss causes no one to fret
Cool jazz plays on an old cassette As the solstice weaves its most magic ways Soft curls are set free from its shell barrette As I softly smile on their loving plays
Throes of passion begins, they close their eyes And breezes carry away their heightened sighs
Though it’s not technically summer (yet), here in the northern hemisphere, we’ve already had a few scorching days. Merrill who is tending the pub tonight, entices us to pick from a selection of paintings evoking a variety styles and summer themes to write a summer ekphrastic poem inspired by what you see or feel.
I chose: “Tar Beach 2” Quilt 1990 by Faith Ringgold, American, born 1930. Produced at The Fabric Workshop and Museum, Philadelphia, founded 1977 Philadelphia Museum of Art. I can’t upload it, but you can see it here.
Before I even clicked on the link to view it, the title alone took me back to the days of rooftop barbeques, nighttime parties and things that happened in the late-late-late nights that only the moon sees.
First Sarah (sarahsouthwest) invited us to write a sleepy little quadrille. A quadrille, is simply a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. It can be in any form, rhymed or unrhymed, metered, or unmetered. You MUST use the word “sleep” or some form of the word in your poem.
Next Lillian insists we regale her a poem using at least one compound word from a list provided.
The catch being to split the word over. Achieving its two components; yet keep it together. (<– see what I did there)
Naturally, does Muse just use one compound word in a poem? Noooooo…. Let’s make every confounded end/start line be compounded – yeah! Oh!, and still make a quadrille – right!
Tonight at the pub, Lisa tends bar and sets the season on a quadrille.
A quadrille, is simply a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. It can be in any form, rhymed or unrhymed, metered, or unmetered. You MUST use the word “season” or some form of the word in your poem.
I also cheat a little in that my quadrille is also what I’ll call an Reverse Extended Arun. A nonce poem created by blogger GirlGriot. An Arun is a fifteen-line poem in three sets of five lines. Each set of five lines follows the same syllable structure: starting with one syllable and increasing by one syllable with each line. 1/2/3/4/5 — 3x. There are no other rhyme or structural requirements. I inverted the syllable count and add two words to fit the quadrille requirement into a proposal of mythical proportions.
Much Too deep Much too fast You blazed red in Betrayal’s fury
From Tears that blurred the sight With lust’s white heat You let yourself fall
So Cold in Broken-hearted Blues of too much And not enough
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As is now tradition for me, I open National Poetry Writing Month with the Arun.
A nonce poem created by friend and fellow blogger, GirlGriot, an Arun is a fifteen-line poem in three sets of five lines. Each set of five lines follows the same syllable structure: starting with one syllable and increasing by one syllable with each line. 1/2/3/4/5 — 3x. There are no other rhyme or structural requirements. Today, I follow the pattern she’s set, left aligned and un-rhymed. As always, I will take a little poetic license, in future runs of the form.
They sounded kind and full of loves In the pleasant weather Goblin Market – Christina Rosetti
Why swaddled in the rolling fog his ragged chemise color of bog The goblin worm had filled me with fright Dare I show upon first light, Somehow, I knew it wasn’t right So ear against the wall I shove To hear the trumpet of new voices In offer of different choices Not the nightmares feared of They sounded kind and full of loves
Thus, I the ignored the fiend’s masquerade Not a moment more to be waylaid I am a monarch, I was ready And chrysalis pieces flow and eddy On the breeze like confetti Among the violet hued heather As I emerge from my hidey-hole In ochre gown mirrored in trim of coal With only the sky as tether In the pleasant weather
Tonight at the pub, Sarah tends bar for this session of Poetics.
Inspired by the intriguing names of paint samples, we are prompted to choose one of the below paint names and use it as the inspiration for a poem:
Trumpet, Tea with Florence, Chemise, Confetti, Goblin, Mirror, Rolling fog, First light, Hidey hole, Masquerade
We are further challenged to incorporate as many of the words as we can and to have fun.
Oh, that was said to the wrong person. It is my natural wont when see a list of options with a prompt to select one to try to use them all. And because I am that gal, I do so in one of my favorite poetry forms, a glosa. Using two lines of Goblin Market by Christina Rosetti to tell this 1st person tale of a butterfly’s beginnings.
Raivenne-lations 