For this week’s Lucky Dip, the mystery bag gives us a Tableau.
The Tableau, a poetry form created by Emily Romano in October of 2008, consists of one or more verses, each having six lines. Each line should have five beats. There is no set rhyme scheme, although rhyme may be present. The title should contain the word tableau.
One dictionary states the word tableau means picture or representation; the poem should reflect this. A picture should come to mind as the poem is read.
Muse challenges with the representation of nothingness. Nothing to see here, but you can picture it.
Just once more, he begged and pleaded to her
A hello and farewell tour as it were
She scoffs it’s the silliest thing she’s heard
And besides she’s now much too old a bird
For what purpose could there possibly be
To take on the burden of one like she
To argue money came quickly and went
Her career had made her quite affluent
Nor could he argue for awards or fame
Not with world-wide accolades in her name
Just one more stand in the glow of limelight
Doing the craft that has been her delight
Ten years had passed since she last graced a screen
And Broadway? Well that was a near fifteen
It goes back and forth for a little while
But he knows she’s in once he sees the smile
That smiles that stops men even as jaded as he
It was hard not to rub his hands with glee
Some thought she turned a new leaf in life
She brought none of the old dramas or strife
A junior diva tested this new meek
And learned from the curb that sweet is not weak
And not a step was missed as she rehearsed
Her new elegance shined as others cursed
The nocturne really tested her voice
Her body tired but she had no choice
Once her fire’s lit she’s in for the fight
And she was just fine come opening night
She trusted her nerves would not let her sway
As a full house harkens each word she says
When that solo light shines, she feels such bliss
And knows nothing, nothing will equal this
The applause thunders as the curtain falls
And she waits for the first of curtain calls
A bouquet of taffy and red roses
Greets her as she rises from her poses
She laughs at the joke, both ancient and sage
And waves at the giver just left of stage
Exhausted but grateful she has this chance
To act, to sing and yes a little dance
As the light faded, she fell to the floor
The diva had had her final encore
She was called difficult but the best
Fact to which all who knew her did attest
Eulogies told with melancholy tears
At the services filled with loved ones and peers
Every soul there agreed that it was
Fitting the last thing she heard was applause
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Tonight Lillian tends bar at dVerse Poets Pub. It’s Open Link Night, where our words are all we’re ‘just sayin’…’ | Open Link Night : Just Sayin’ . . .
Shades reflective of my soul – my heart wonders in hues felt,
Charcoal through silver – yellows through purples.
Dawn or dusk does not matter – the seconds, minutes, the hours
In the colors of mourning – are no means to measure joy.
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At dVerse, Frank Tassone, our pubtender for today’s Meeting the Bar, challenges us to delve into aesthetics of Imagism, where less verbiage is employed to produce more imagery. We’re also encouraged to use Japanese or Sappho Greek lyric to accomplish such.
I chose an ancient form of Japanese poetry called Tanka and used it as a Super Tanka.
Tanka are 31-syllable poems. In Japan, it is usually written as a straight line of characters, but in English and other Western languages, it is usually divided into five lines, with a syllable count of 5-7-5-7-7.
The key to the Super Tanka form is that it is two Tanka side-by-side. Each can be read independently, yet must also work together as a whole, in effect creating three poems in one.
Suppressing a desire
For centuries commuted
Ferried about
Twixt the rage
And the frustration
Via the complication
Of our blackness unheard and unseen
Except through
Crosshairs white and blue
Until control held sage
With fury slips out
Only to be persecuted
For the fire
Tonight at dVerse Linda challenges us to write a Quadrille, is a poetic form created here at dVerse, a poem of exactly 44 words (not counting the title) and including this challenge’s prompt word: SLIP
Given sweet release, on a sultry night One hears the morning bird’s song, I close my eyes and breathe deep It bans the darkness, heeding ganja’s call Sleep a hazy memory, in the aromatic flush Bright music waking the soul, all coherent thinking lost
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Tonight on dVerse Poets Pub Mish challenges us to flush things out in a quadrille – a poem of exactly 44 words not including the title. One of those 44 words must be the prompt – flush..
As I worked this out I realized I was on the path to creating a Super Tanka, so I just went with Muse and combined both. And being that today is 4/20 my mind naturally went to ganja’s call…
LIFE
living
existence
one day at a time
for the rest of your time
trying to be at one's best
'because the alternative sucks'
CHANCE
fortune
in fate's hand
opportunity
it's not in your control
what turns the wheel, guides the die
'life, the moment your eyes open'
DEATH
finite
infinite
it is what it is
for as long as we're here
It's not as long as we're gone
'it is the great equalizer'
PAIN
anguish
agony
in body or soul
and oftentimes in both
you bear the unbearable
'it's what lets you know you're alive'
FAITH
belief
conviction
the ultimate trust
is the substance of hope
evidence of things not seen
'all that I have left in me now'
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It’s Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub and a join in with a Clarity Pyramid poetry form for National Poetry Writing Month.
This is the only true terror to be
The blinking cursor that moves not one space
Or those ruled lines that scream to be penned on
A page that’s blank, while pen is full scares me
Thoughts clash around in ambiguity
Those wisps of words, so close within my grasp
Yet I cannot make heads nor tails of it
This is the only true terror to be
Sometimes mere scribbles are all that I see
But at least there is hope for something more
Empty eight by elevens have no chance
A page that’s blank, while pen is full scares me
This is the only true terror to be
For someone whose whole life depends on words
A page that’s blank, while pen is full scares me
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Yes, all of the world is a stage my friends At least it is told what the people say From when we begin until our time ends Our too brief ride held in Sol’s sweet sway And it matters not what part we will play For as prince or pawn is roll of the die At Act I, Scene I: curtains rise: we all cry
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Tonight at dVerse Frank challenges us to “is to write a poem with seven lines.” For those who want to go a further we are challenged to make it like a Chaucerian stanza/Rime Royal – is a seven-line poem in iambic pentameter with a rhyme scheme of ABABBCC.
And I don’t want the world to see me Cause I don’t think that they’d understand When everything’s made to be broken I just want you to know who I am “Iris” by the Goo-Goo Dolls / “City of Angels” Soundtrack
Some question my sanity year after year That I’ m not quite right is abundantly clear Stepping in and out of darkened lucidity The voices in my head are mostly a minor din But that yellow dress you wore that day did me in It was the red cape to the bull of my insanity And the voice gained control was full of hate As you stepped to me smiling sealing your fate For my mood was downright ugly And I don’t want the world to see me
I don’t deny what I’ve done to some women is sick But you weren’t like those yacht girls who fall so quick All their smiling as they think I’m at their command They dangle promises of a young love so sweet But it’s me holding their hearts, feeling their heat And then ripping it from them with my bare hand But you, you disregard all concepts of my deceiving My inner voices wondering why aren’t you leaving Never having had an experience like this firsthand ‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
False yore flows from my cruel lips with ease Yards of lies with an inch of truth to please The truth a means of passage, merely a token So you yawn in my face, knowing it’s unwise And yet you laugh seeing the truth in all the lies Behind every filthy word I’ve ever spoken From you the truth shines bright and sure The lightness of your heart, ywis so pure But can I believe your heart is solid – oaken? When everything’s made to be broken
And so you survived more than just the night Even knowing down deep I may never be right For goodness knows I really didn’t give a damn If you drowned in all the tears you yield Brought on by all these damn fears I field ‘Cause you were never part of the program But you’re still here and nothing denies How I yearn for the feel of your light in my eyes But mine are the eyes of a tragedy ma’am I just want you to know who I am
<>========<> One of my favorite poetry forms: a Glosa.
