Best Quintella Poems
Haibun trying to read your mind from afar,
sitting acrostic from you at the bar.
Iamb itching to sit on the stool beside you,
but somebody's sonnet - and I don't think she'll move.
Are we just a couplet of friends having drinks?
Maybe you quintella me what you think.
I feel giddy and dizain without any warning,
and I know I'm going to feel verse in the morning.
But we've been playing footles and it feels so right,
so why not just tanka me home tonight?
quintella (Spanish quintain) in pentameter
Hard-working spider, you do your part,
instinctive busy spider that thou art.
You speak without doubt as you weave your web.
It is we humankind that tend to ebb
and surge, trying to balance mind and heart.
One day man, I'm down, oh my restless soul.
On rising up, how can I dare extol
a friend or employer on a mere whim;
then the very next day dishonor him
by rank conduct that is out of control?
Consistency is a course of action,
a gift that structures one’s reputation.
It is ripe fruit of making wise choices;
it is prudent forethought which rejoices
beyond just making a good impression.
Yes, speak if you wish of what you believe;
AND watch what you do, lest you should deceive
by your performance that which you profess.
Would spiders agree - caprice creates stress?
A web of whimsy is not worth the weave.
written 30 March 2016
Wet colors blended into one
New creations beheld in awe
Artistic beauties without flaw
Eyes behold glory as the sun
Textures combined into such fun!
quintella 8 syllables each line
Crowned May Queen
As the music flows in my mind and soul in cheer
I dance around on my toes in the sun kissed fragrant fields
of wildflowers and tall emerald green grass yields
With a breath of life that dwells the day is near
For I’m favored to be the prettiest maiden here
All eyes will be on me in my white lace dress
and closed shoes I will astound with my hair in curls
and a crown of blossoms and leaves of green
when I'm honored with the crown of May Queen
a symbol of the stillness of nature surrounds
In which everything revolves around
Early bright is here with a clear blue unclouded sky
My friends and neighbors are all excited to their utmost ability
Townships and villages celebrating springtime fertility
Handsome couples gathering bouquets of flowers from nearby
decorating the whole town with springtime greenery and mystify
I lead the celebration up to the heart of town singing
Old buildings and tables are adorned
with scented blooms that leave you breathless
Populace displays all the elegance of their dress
Dressed in white, carrying garlands of flowers
and beaming children follow giggling and dancing
They place a crown of blossoms on my head,
I say a speech from my soul and set off the festivities,
with dance and overwhelming merriment
Musicians play their musical instruments with talent
with eating, drinking, jubilant music,
and courtly lovers dancing around the Maypole
A feast fit for a King, everyone enjoys
crafts, games, and carousel to console
With a breath of life at the age of sixteen
As the music flows in my mind and soul
I dance around the maypole
Favored for being the prettiest maiden seen
Honored with being crowned May Queen
By: Eve Roper 4/18/2015 Quintella Form
Children Story
She stood there on the balcony
watching him riding off to war
her heart was full of mutiny
crushed she held onto the bar
there would be no matrimony
Juliet was full of acrimony
hating the powerful Tsar
far away the cacophony
the sound of the battle of war
drifting up to the balcony
Juliet waited for his pony
hearing distantly his sitar
his voice singing songs so corny
she ran to him down the sandbar
now there could be matrimony
written 02/13/2014
contest: Juliet
my first Quintella I hope I got the form right
In early Autumn, the leaves change dress.
As early chill in night time breeze caress
and cool to adorn with colored hue,
succinct palette,
glazed by frost from morning dew.
Slowly the leaves float down.
They do their dance to the ground.
To bed they gently saunter,
slowly slumber,
They are the first signs of winter.
Soon covered under a blanket of white.
Critters, deeply imbedded, out of sight,
nestled, warmly on rainbow sheets,
yawn and stretch,
and dream the dreams of winter sleep.
The leaves, once born by nature’s hand,
brown and crumble at time’s command.
Then mixed with dirt and rain,
rabbit and deer dung,
dust to dust, feeds that from whence it came.
This poem is a varient of the Quintella, with
rhyme scheme of aabcb
© 6 Oct 2011 Charles Henderson
.
You may not love me that's okay
A Taste of you would make my day
Others will never know this bliss
You bless me with an angel kiss
Then swiftly turn and fly away
A Catch-Phrase Dazzeler Poetry Contest
1st attempt at a Quintella
( I have written the poem in three different forms: Quintain, Quintella and Quinzaine forms
respectively)
Getting married at Christmas
Never heard! No, I wouldn't want to marry on Christmas day.
Not Christmas Day but a few days before would be lovely!
That would mean messing Christmas up for everyone, okay!
Apart from it making it difficult for friends and family
It would be mean and rude to share two special days selfishly.
To get the best of both the worlds with Christmassy feel
I would rather prefer to get married on the 20th December
So the reception bills and the hotel bills would be cheaper
Even a Non-Christian faith person would think in real
To keep the Christians friends away, won’t be a fair deal.
I hope one would appreciate
My humble sentiments
Wouldn’t you too?
+++++
13-11-13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Tenth Place win
Contest: Getting married at Christmas by Shadow Hamilton
I was feeling a bit acrostic, and could not hide my dizain from that silly ekphrasis
skin condition they burned in elegy. So I sent an epigram to the seismology
department, where it registered on the epitaph graph. The ghostly visions of the
etheree spirits dressed in the latest Fibonacci made me wonder if the ghazal of
the African plains might have been held up by a Grook, in spite of the heroic
couplets the gay community presented in support. I checked the reading on the
iambic pentameter, even though it made me late for my kimo treatments. It got
dark, so I used a lanterne that lay about in McWhirtle's yard, and sure enough,
nonet, there was the mother ode!! Ghostly pantoums made me start to believe in
Parallelismus Membrorum, so I got a ticket for the quatrain engineered by the
Mexican revolutionary, Pancho Quintella. But he was busy rubbing Rengay on
his sore limbs.
to be continued
Eight syllables per line's the way,
so to use the Quintella’s form
in five lines to which I conform,
I’ll rhyme with a b b a a.
This Spanish form is A-okay!