Poesie

Image courtesy of weirdwebsites

A Pocket Full of Posies

We hold each others’ hands and sing,

“O ring around the rosie...swing!”

We love to play this silly game.

I wonder where it got its name.

Was plague the meaning of the thing?

We hold each others’ hands and sing.

A pocket full of posies will

(at least to us) mean nothing ill.

So, ashes…and we all fall down

in sailor suit or dainty gown.

We hold each others’ hands and swing:

we’re healthy as we’re chorusing

a ditty that’s been passed on from

a middle-age compendium.

That is the thought to which we’ll cling.

We hold each others’ hands and sing. 

###

Notes:  The form is Quatern.  Sepia Saturday provided a prompt this week of 'games' along with a vintage snapshot of some lovely Korean ladies playing a game called 'Go.'  The original archival picture was really cool, and if I have time over the weekend, I will try to write a poem for that too.  But at first blush, I had the idea in my head of old-fashioned little kids playing 'Ring-A-Round the Rosie,' and when I found the above tinted photograph, my poem really began to take shape.

Although the children's nursery rhyme 'Ring-A-Round the Rosie' is believed to be (by some) about the bubonic plague in Europe from the mid 1300s, according to Snopes, it really isn't so.  I'm kind of glad, since I'd rather it be innocent...although it's fun when you find nursery rhymes of old that were used to convey other, secret meanings.  Kind of like a game, huh?

Shoe Tales

 

"...your feet…so petite…

Madame, just push...a bit more…

Ugh!  Okay…they’re on."

###

Image courtesy of Harumi-Tan's Blog

A Vamp for a Princess

“I think this shoe should fit you well,”

the Prince said to dear Cinderel-

la.  But when he slid on the shoe,

he knew not what he’d got into.

“Dear Prince, your buoyant mood I’ll quell.

You think that shoe should fit me well?”

the young girl asked, with nostrils flared.

Her red lips parted.  Fangs were bared.

The Prince jumped back. He was surprised.

“I guess the shoe thing’s ill-advised?

I thought the shoe would fit you well.

It seems you’re under – what? – a spell?”

“I’d say,” sneered Cin, “so please don’t tamp-

er with my heart.  C’mon – a vamp? –

that’s for a vampire?  Your blood smell,

unlike that shoe, should feed me well.”

###

Notes:  Sorry for the long absence.  I've actually written some poetry this month, but it didn't end up getting posted here for a variety of reasons.  I've also been working on some short fiction, on Flashy Fiction, which is a prompt blog I co-host with several other terrific writers and poets - and I've been tweaking my middle grade, historical novel too.  (More on that another time.)

Anyway, Sepia Saturday, one of my favorite prompt sites, provided the theme of shoes, along with the topmost picture for their weekly prompt.  I wrote the 5/7/5 haiku for that picture, but then another idea crept (not crypt, by the way...groan!) into my head.  I loved the idea of a 'vamp' being in a poem with...a vampire.  After all, a vamp, according to one definition, is a part of a shoe.  It's also a piece of improvised music, as well as a tempting lady.  The form is Quatern.

Illuminated!

Image courtesy of Maisa Gonzalez's Portolio

Quidquid

“Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum videtur.” (Anything said in Latin sounds profound). ~Anon

If you speak Latin, you’ll sound smart,

like Einstein, Plato and Descartes.

But even more, most will not know

what you have said.  Just goes to show

that but a few words, known by heart,

proves you speak Latin.  You sound smart!

Thus when you postulate, ‘quidquid,”

just say it once.  Then say, ‘ibid.”

Or then say, “Bibo ergo sum,”

Some ‘Python’ fans will know, by gum,

your toasts to Latin are so smart!

So, “ergo,” now, here’s THE best part…

To “carpe diem” (seize the day)

use Latin.  You’ll be “illiant-bray”

and so profound,  You’ll stand apart:

if you speak Latin, you’ll sound smart.

###

Notes:  Dang it!  My original notes just got wiped out!  Gotta start from scratch now.  Grrrrrrrr!

Breathe, breathe...

Okay here goes:  The form is called Quatern.  I know, I know, dear reader...you are mega-surprised because you were expecting another Kyrielle Sonnet, right?  Well, to be honest, the Quatern is similar in many ways to the Kyrielle and the Kyrielle Sonnet, which is why it was easy and fun to write.  The prompting for writing this form  comes from Walt and Marie, those nice folks over at Poetic Bloomings. Every week, they do something called In-Form Poet, which is all about poetic form - and this week, the form was Quaterm.

Now, believe it or not, I didn't originally set out to write a pun[ish] poem about Latin.  Instead, my thought was to write something on 'balance' since that was the prompt word over at Theme Thursday.  (Yeah, I know today is Friday.)  The goal was 'neco duos pennipotenti per unus calx'  which basically means (according to a couple of online translators) to kill two birds with one stone.  It's not exact, mind you, especially when you translate it back from Latin to English, but whatever.

Anyway, I started searching for humorous 'balance' quotes, which is actually more difficult than one might expect.  Most 'balance' quotes have a more inspirational kinda aura about them (as opposed to funny.)  But, one hyperlink (and subsequent website of quotes) led to another - and suddenly, there I was.  Latin.

So...did I strike any sort of balance with the above poem?  Hmmmm.  It's a stretch.  But if you put Pig-Latin, Monty Python and certain individuals of considerable intellectual weight (among other stuff) on the scales of life, then perhaps I did, on balance, complete the task.

Okay...okay...Gemitu!  (That's Latin for *groan!*)

Quaterns get their turn today

A quatern is a poetic term for eight syllables in a line.  It's also a French poetic form (rhymed or unrhymed) with sixteen lines in four stanzas, where the first line moves down one line in each stanza until it ends the poem as the final line.  And...(ready for this?) it is also a cardinal number that's the sum of three and one.  Cool, right?  You learn something new every day.

The reason for all of the above is that I decided to put the quatern to use today.  Monday's Child posted a lovely illustration by Clara Burd.  The poem I wrote for it was in the form of quatern (rhymed.)  The March Challenge posited a challenge to write a poem about patterns.  The poem for that one plays with another poem's pattern - and the word 'quatern' gets in there, somehow.

Hanging a Basket on the Wall

Hanging a basket on the wall,

filled with some bright forget-me-nots

is my own way I come to call.

I spread my joy with flower pots.

Oh please come outside, just as I’m

hanging a basket on the wall.

This is the stuff of nursery rhyme…

the scent of flowers does enthrall.

They should stay fresh past evenfall,

but don’t forget to water them.

A little sprinkling on them all ~

on petals, leaves and vine-green stem.

It’s been most pleasant here with you.

I’m glad I stopped to pay this call:

I’ll come again, when I pass through,

and hang a basket on the wall.

###

Image courtesy of Great Roses

Breaking the Pattern

“If you have always done it that way, it is probably wrong.”  ~Charles F. Kettering

Roses are red.

If you step in mud you’ll leave a muddy shoeprint.

This poem is deviating from that

which is considered the blueprint.

Violets are blue.

Eight syllables in a line are called a quatern.

It’s also a cardinal number

which can be the basis of a pattern.

Sugar is sweet.

Wanna break the rules in poetic form?

It’s okay, if you know them first,

which is, strictly speaking, not the norm.

And so are you.

Hey!  Got your attention!

This poem’s totally wrong, by

which it just defied convention.

###

(Note: Per several sources, the poem, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.’ was written by an unknown poet in England about 1784 and is a Nursery Rhyme.)