Best Strophe Poems
strophe
I stand on the snow covered mountain
Colorful vase of flowers
Slopes with flower beds laden
I saw the snow lotus flowers
I asked, “Why are you all alone here?
Beauty is meant to be adored.
Should give yourself to somebody
Before your petals fall to dust soon, dear.
What if I crushed your petals, I asked
As at these heights, you are quite lonely”..
antistrophe
One of the flowers quickly responded
“I enjoy the shelter of blue skies.
I would be too glad
If you choose to crush my petals
My fragrance will spread everywhere.
Fulfilling the purpose and duty
If destroyed, not admired.
By plucking my petals, remember
You won’t gather my beauty,
Beauty is to see, not to be plucked'.
epode
“O’ lotus, you teach wisdom to man
Praise her beauty, don’t destroy her.
It is the gladdest thing under the sun
Touch a hundred flowers not pick ever”
O’ man, pluck not wayside flower even
It is the traveler’s dowers.
Silently a flower blooms alone
And in silence it falls down
If I am worth many pleasures,
I think I am too few then”.
===================================
June 15, 2014
Form : Ode
First Place win in
Contest: My favorite poem by Carol Eastman
===================================
Form: Ode (the Homostrophic or Horatian Ode)
Rhyme scheme: ABABCDECDE (Ten lines)
Second place winner in
Contest: Ode sponsored by Jared Pickett
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This is the English Ode, also called the Homostrophic or Horatian Ode.
The Romantic Ode often followed the Irregular Ode's structure
and the Homostrophic Ode's meditative quality.
====================================
The poem also won the second place in the International Poetry
Contest of 2011 by Poetry Soup.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
she disturbs meaning
in rhythmic pulsation
exciting to fluorescence a deeply subtext'd verse;
'but don't mistake a stinging strophe for arrogance.'
'that's just fierce presence,'
moved by waves of astonishment
cascading through a nervous and vascular system
spontaneously overflowed
sea through
with a reaching iridescent tentacle
she simply, elegantly, fluoresces a gleam in your eyes
POETIC BIO
Alliteration,the starting place, alongside
cinquains,apace in time,crystalline
lanterne and rhyme.Inspiration drew forth
footle,broken monoku for a while short
imagist was my style.Sequenced longer
poems metamorphose within this crysallis
changing into ekphrasis.Open,and free to be,
as you see,structured prose poetry.With
cadence and pause,others hear my voice,
aural phrasis now this poet’s choice.
as exampled below
What intimacy is its cause,perhaps
an immaculate conception of words;
too swift to comprehend,see or
recognise.The moment is there
and then is not.Gone with the wind
the seed of idea remains, to
germinate and gestate,fanned by a
mental fragrance of elation.Slowly
self-transcending a word into a phrase,
a sentence to a strophe;a rhyme
rides a waterfall of cadence,
into a chasm of verse. Terse or
long, the sonnet becomes a little song,
struggles to arrive.Thrust forth upon
my page;a bastard-born of pain
Ode to the people of Norway
Strophe
O, the darkness has descended on a paradise
Of Norway’s bounties of nature
On the people living a quiet life
Not concerned about the politics ever
A drug addict, calling himself a warrior
Taking pride of being a savior of Europe
Unmindful of the death toll of the young
Rejoicing in the tears falling from their eyes
A Hitler has raised his ugly head up
Polluting the minds of the old and the young.
Antistrophe
But trying to take a refuge to insanity
Taking drugs to make himself efficient and awake
Priding over to start war for years sixty
Pleading not guilty to terrorism namesake
Though confessing to bombing and rampage
But remaining unaffected by what happened
Thus his plea assures him of future court hearings
By the attacks Norway is riveted with rage
By Breivik’s paranoid writings stunned
Hundreds thronged the courthouse proceedings.
Epode
With tears in their eyes people paid homage
To the victims laying roses a few feet deep
While the killer faces 21 years in prison
The stiffest sentence can be given by a Norwegian judge
His lawyer says the whole case suggests his client is insane
The Royal couple consoled people and tears shed
The prime minister called it a national tragedy
And summed it up “evil can never defeat a nation”
The killer may enjoy Halden, the luxurious jail in the world
Where cells have flat TV and designer furniture facility.
+++++++++
* I wrote this poem two years back when the tragedy took place. Not posted anywhere
Date 4-11-13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Tenth Place win
Contest: Ode (Old/new) poetry by SKAT Love
(1)
Strophe
Slowly and slowly fly the mighty feathers:
the uncanny wrath bearer, the poacher's prey,
the bald bizzare stigmatic cryptic creature, the ecology's majestic role player;
the curtain raiser of ecosystem's air purifier.
Alas! Your iconographic role is omitted,
you, the saviour of the mortal race
from the contagious diseases.
Astounded! How you uncontaminated dear environment.
Your poaching has taken away
the soul of the balanced ecosystem;
crucial is saviour friend's presence, on the verge of extinction plight might have horrid ripple effect!
(2)
Antistrophe
Irony! The friend's void can't be substituted by mere replicas of sustainable development;
the diminishing existence will
drastically affect the local food webs!
How alluring to have a glimpse
of the hunch and tuck of the bird's head in the cold,
flapping and fluttering the wings,
stretching the neck in the heat!
You, remain aloft for hours,
soars gracefully on long broad wings;
with dazzling sharp eyes
from the highlands to pick the carrion!
(3)
Epode
Your iconographic presence is being honoured by the myths, legends, fables of civilizations from ages.
High time to contemplate, to introspect,
to jump into the ecosystem's integral bandwagon:
as pivotal to rescue and redeem the bird's friendly endangered existence!
All Rights Reserved © Silpika Kalita
"O Yellow Lily! You smilingly bloom
Early in the morning in my terrace garden,
In a jiffy, you take away all gloom,
Tell me, in front of you, can any heart harden?"
"O White Lily! What makes your face to brighter shine?
What do you nod at behind my kitchen window?
How do you dress so beautifully every morn?
Lovely your visage, each detail crafted so fine,
My heartbeat, seeing you, reaches a crescendo,
I write to thank you, my heart's with happiness torn."
"O poet! I bloom where God has placed me,
Bursting at crack of dawn, just as He tells me to,
If on seeing me, your gloom turns to glee,
That's all His doing, I'm just a lily for you."
"O dear friend! I've learned to enjoy my life, it's short,
To God, my Creator, I'm nodding back my thanks,
For He clothes me majestic, though I'm mere flora,
Here today, gone tomorrow, I bud to exhort -
Live without worries, He'll provide from His rich banks,
Thank God if you would, shine for Him each aurora."
Even the lovely lilies of the field
Remember to praise God, how then can I forget?
As long as I live, my lips can't be sealed,
Great lessons I have learnt from these lilies I met.
04/11/17
1st stanza- Strophe
2nd stanza- Antistrophe
3rd stanza- Epode
Rhyme scheme: abab cdecde, abab cdecde, abab
Syllable count : 1st and 2nd stanzas: 10 12 10 12 12 12 12 12 12 12
3rd stanza: 10 12 10 12
Strophe
The polygamist had a big house
Where he chose to warehouse hundreds of girls
And women including 29 stepmothers, his father’s spouses
56 of the girls were each other’s sisters.
And 24 were under the age of seventeen.
Some of the young wives even assisted passions
The pedophile with his sexual assaults
Telling the girls that if they refused to please his preen
In what he dubbed the “heavenly sessions”
They would be “rejected by God’s favorite cult.
Antistrophe
Wives were both the victims of his abuse
And the accomplices subjected to a cruel
World of worship and sexual abuse
And were so indoctrinated and used cool.
Who cruelly bred them for manipulation.
Calling himself the ‘humble servant’ of God
Asking the girls to please God to atone community’s sins
Oh, the wives of the notorious polygamist’s predation
Into the twisted world of subjugation fold
With which he surrounded himself amidst the teens.
Epode
Had a wisdom tooth for his sexual gratification
Raping the young girls in his big house to make housewives
The State of Texas has a big house for lamentation
Where he will spend the rest of his life’s cloves
Well, he will have plenty of time to repent.
And think deeply on the meaning of life
Out of the 50 wives none of the parents got relief
Where are the parents of these young girls tormented?
Does that mean all were brainwashed for strife?
So scary that pedophilia can be masked as religious belief.
.===============================================
Dr. Ram Mehta
First Place win in :
Contest: A Toothful Ode by nancy jones
** This is the English Ode, also called the Homostrophic or Horatian Ode.
The Romantic Ode often followed the Irregular Ode's structure
and the Homostrophic Ode's meditative quality.
Rhyme Scheme : ABABCDECDE (Ten lines)
Strophe
Ye, the goddess of flame, fire and eternal love
From Tahiti you found home in Hawaii Kilauea
I accessed your gateway with deep feelings of love
With your archetypes *Kali Ma, Sekhmet and Durga
You falsify that women are weak and incapable
That to be feminine to be fragile and helpless
You’re a beauty with dignity & divine power all
Ability to shape shift woman or crone effortless.
Known as Pele energy or energy Pele-kino-aha-nei
Your four sisters using same will Pele-kino-aha-nei.
Antistrophe
As a young woman you fell in love with Lohiau
As you left volcano, pining for you & dying nearly
You sent Hiiaka for him, she fell in love with Lohiau
You found Kamapua, but allowed them to marry.
All in Hawaii know your defined potential of fire
And stories about your many loves & infidelities
Your father sent you away because of your hot temper
As you seduced your sister’s husband with abilities.
Finally in Hawaii with blatant infidelities and passions
Manifested in the Big island’s volcanic activities.
Epode
Because Hawaii sits on the mountaintops of Lemuria
Lemurian Goddess energy is a still a strong vibration
Coming to Hawaii, feels good like coming home area
Within their cellular consciousness with love’s vibration.
Ye, Goddess Pele is surprisingly playful and light
With three dynamics, well being, play and flow
You, as healer, love to heal and love to be brought
If not treated with respect , you have the power to blow.
All visitors you listen to the Pele archives as I do
Believe that miracles can come from teachings due.
+++
* Names of Indian Goddesses
music's turning little dance sing the sonettos cabriole a turning stance ballerina's toe ~ tops cheval bureau a glance songs of little strophe on look the spiraling chance day dreams étoile's soul
What intimacy is its cause,perhaps
an immaculate conception of words;
too swift to comprehend,see or
recognise.The moment is there
and then is not.Gone with the wind
the seed of idea remains, to
germinate and gestate,fanned by a
mental fragrance of elation.Slowly
self-transcending a word into a phrase,
a sentence to a strophe;a rhyme
rides a waterfall of cadence,
into a chasm of verse. Terse or
long, the sonnet becomes a little song,
struggles to arrive.Thrust forth upon
my page;a bastard-born of pain,
ancestry unknown,no more to roam
Hear me read this poem aloud here http://youtu.be/GiD8JdYi-jw
and my other video poetry at this link
http://youtube.com/ichthyschiro
Silver fog rose
Camera won't focus 'pon the gray
Raindroplets pose
Form: Tristich ...
Parallel in thought
A strophe, stanza, or poem consisting of three lines
According to Michael R. Burch:
What are haiku? In Japanese hai means "unusual" and ku means "verse" or "strophe." So haiku are, literally, unusual verses. Sir George Sansom called haiku "little drops of poetic essence." Harold Henderson called them "meditations." I think of haiku as evocative snapshots constructed of words: the flash photography of literature. Another useful definition might be "transcendent images." For example:
Grasses wilt:
the braking locomotive
grinds to a halt.
? Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
In the poem above, wilting autumn grasses and a braking locomotive grinding to a halt represent time, aging and the approach of death. Two simple images speak worlds, in the hands of a skilled poet.
While Japanese haiku have three lines with syllable counts of 5-7-5, this is not a hard-and-fast rule in English, so in my translations I have used as many syllables as seemed necessary to convey the images, feelings and meanings of the poems, as I grok them.
Jim Horn
I shouldn't be playing with things that I have no knowledge of up
to this point. At least, I have a little knowledge of it now.
I thought I knew it;
Had known it well;
Then it flew off into space.
Jim Horn
We are not sure and have doubts.
Then we become an egotist and expert.
Yet, still lose sight of who we are.
Jim Horn
We chop down others
That will build ourselves up
In our own eyes and not others.
Jim Horn
Is better to build each other up.
In forest, we can be tall together.
Until someone cuts us all down.
Jim Horn
Carpe diem? sweet, yet meet?… whimsical? smart? how do I start?…
On a birthday, it’s worth saying something special from the heart.
While I’ve penned all kinds of rhymes— ahead, behind the times, a range—
Some in verse that’s terse, some florid, others horrid, stanzas strange…
Here are couplets spare, to share a word about aesthetic voice
And tell of those who, heaven knows, feel impelled. These have no choice.
Force driven, from a passion given or a pull linguistic,
They have to make their plea— to make us see— by means artistic.
To psyches nourish with a flourish to seek heights where dreams dare—
Souls entice through words’ device— takes more than mere inventive flair.
Although Joyce’s knack most lack or Molly Bloom’s, yes, claim to fame…
Still a spark might light that could ignite a literary flame.
When in dim creative burn, one struggles just to turn the page—
Push on to… and puzzle through… a painful poem’s final stage.
Midst seas of jocund companies, I would seek to speak from shore,
Hope to leave behind a line of mine that wasn’t there before…
Meantime delight in what is left, each strophe deft… to the end…
Where we blind may find someday someway unwinds beyond that bend…
I’ll stop the Harley parley now— sing appreciation ‘cheers’…
For encore add, ‘many more birthdays galore… and relished years!’
~ Harley White
[While this was initially written for the birthday of someone in particular, I have found it to be appropriate for my creative friends and acquaintances in general.]
stanza and strophe..
in verse set free
a broken monoku form
“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.”
~William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act V, Scene I
I weep by the stardust shore where seraphs sing
Tangerine tears rain despair ‘neath a velveteen veil
My melancholic muse, muslin-wrapped in ice-cold caskets
Slain by ruinous romance swirled in absinthe abstractions
Despondent sloughs bespeak the depths of my soul
Saffron scars scream sonnets through metaphorical mists
Morose melodies paint scabs on pastiche strophe
Pregnant pause, so precious, submerged in lurid lament
But then it whispered, a voice unvarnished by purple plumes
A verse, it bloomed, untainted by thesaurus bleeds
Sculpting off silken scaffolds pasted upon profligate poetry
Leaving a profounder palate for plainer prosody
Fools thought wisdom speak in sequin-laced soliloquy
But wise men abrade from calligraphic charade