Long Rondeau Poems
Long Rondeau Poems. Below are the most popular long Rondeau by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rondeau poems by poem length and keyword.
“I remember...” an old man said,
“When the first shot rang out,
When the rebels held their stead,
The British bullets flew about,
And through our ranks they sped.”
Though soldiers fall and cannons shout,
The Flag flies proud and strong, no doubt.
“I remember…” a drummer boy said,
“When the blood of our country ran free,
When the Confederates called for forced labor's spread,
The Union fought to stem the river of slavery.”
The feud caused brothers to fight 'til one was dead,
And still at the end not many could agree,
But the Flag still stood as a symbol of liberty.
“I remember...” a young nurse said,
“When wounded and bleeding they came,
When, though to revive I tried, they died instead.”
Axis and Allies caught up in a brutal game,
Destruction, death, and ruin wide spread.
Tales of battles, wars won and lost proclaim,
The strength and power of the Flag to claim.
“I remember…” an old woman said,
“When Europe was torn in two,
Rather than peace, an Iron Curtain hung instead.”
Democracy’s goal was to subdue,
The communist leader's lofty stead.
After waiting for the verdict long overdue,
The Flag rose triumphant, great, and true.
“I remember…” an aging soldier said,
“The soon forgotten war,
When our army and the south into the north sped.
To take out our enemy we had foreswore,
But our foes were not the only ones who fled.
Though they attacked us with none to warn,
The Flag still stood, tattered and worn.”
“I remember...” a young man said,
“When they attacked us in Vietnam.
Pinned by fire, they meant to shred,
The hope of seeing home again.
Through jungle and brush we fled,
Our lives nearly lost by trap and bomb,
The Flag held its ground and force, even in 'Nam.”
“I remember…” a young, strong soldier said,
“When in the deserts of Iraq,
Upon the hornet's nest we did tread.
They swarmed on us with a counterattack,
But we stood our ground until they fled.
Though many may try to push us back,
The strength of the Flag is what our enemies lack.”
“I am witnessing...” a weary general said,
“An enemy that hides behind a mask,
One that will brutally behead,
And kill as if it is a mandatory task.
The safety of the world hangs by a thread,
And it seems the die have been cast,
But the Flag still stands strong, like it always has in the past!”
He enters looking bedraggled, tired and worn out, his skin like Vellum, blank and pale. Lifting his eyes to catch their gaze he gives a slight nod to acknowledge their presence. He scans the room as he would a poem, looking for an Indent that leads to a quiet corner. A half-lit light casts a shadow on the flock wallpaper, (ink stained)! He sits hidden from view, away from plagiaristic eyes. Head in hand scribbling while listening for a new word. A muse sings, emanating an un-heard Beat that guides his rhythm while searching for that elusive vowel. On the floor a scattering of pencil shavings and broken lead... frustration at the loss of an adjective, the Half-Rhyme squeezes like a tourniquet on the brain...
Frustration runs high as Enjambment slips off the stage and gathers in reflective pools. The Lady Pastoral reads an Elegy to the passing of Sir Rondeau Redouble, he lead a very lonely life, ascending and then diminishing becoming less Didactic, the Footle holds a Lantern for the loss, while the Limerick found it quite humorous.
At the bar a Stanza of poets gather, disciples of Villanelle, and regale of their latest triumphs in Womans Quarterly. The Epulaeryu's compare their Diamante while eating their babba ghanoosh. At the pool table the movers and shakers decant opinions on the latest 'form' something to do with A.E.I.O.U...Acrostic looks it up and down looking puzzled, Blank Verse remains silent. They dissect, analyse the entrails, the faint hearted look a little Grook. The atmosphere is tense, Verbs drift like dust in the light, causing confusion, they mop their brows with a tired Senryu, the Haiku has little to say on the matter...
A Quintain of intellectuals quietly sit, the Sicilian sipping slim line Monoku's ( no ice ) hoping for a Couplet before the end of the night. On a stool sits the barfly spilling his Bio over the counter top exposing an Ode-ious life, (Metaphorically speaking). On stage the hottest group in town, Chant Royal and the Syllables...singing their latest Sestina, the notes drift across the room resting on the floor, congealing into a Poet-tree fountain, they feel at home as the last act MC McWhirtle enthrals with his Ballad, the barman Ric Tameter calls time, the evening is a Rap, the club is Epic...
The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where real love resides.
My heart has taken me down trapped into your Pure beautiful innocent ajmi eyes,
Today these unfaithful eyes allow me to do fun.
Without any solid reason,with deep love feelings for you.
In this Holy month of love,
on your just only one gesture of love marriage permission by you through our real parents.I gave away my heart to you .
As God has willed it,You are indeed worthy of praise,
You are so ruthless,
O my beloved, You are splendid.
By God,Your style is awesome.
You are very strict.
when I saw you again and again,I didn’t think twice,
on your just only one gesture of love marriage permission by you through our real parents.I gave away my heart to you .
I love a man with a great sense of humor and who is intelligent,
A man who has a great smile. He has to make me laugh.
I like a man who is very ambitious and driven and who has a good heart,Pure soul and makes me feel safe.
Who should be highly qualified,top class affluent muslim young family boy.
I like a man who is very strong and independent and confident.
I like a man who is Rightminded, Honourable Gentleman,virtuous, versatile, a deeply pious man,extra Chaste,noble young man.
Who have solid strong ideal best character & solid strong ideal best God Fearing personality.
but at the same time, he's very kind to all people.
Who should have Unity,Faith & Discipline
Who should have peace,humanity & friendly relations to each and every person of the whole world.
Every cell of mine body says this.
Your immodest eyes.
Talk in a carefree manner,
Remove this veil from your face.
I want to see Your Moon-like beauty,
With so many aspirations,
When You came face to face with me, my heart-beats became out of control,
on your just only one gesture of love marriage permission by you through our real parents.I gave away my heart to you .
I've never considered myself as a Universal English Voluntary poetess of Pakistan.
I am just a simple woman with pure heart & pure soul with outstanding down to earth decent personality.
By Miss Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
In the war of words count the cost all is fair in love maybe but not war hearts mend but dead bodies wash ashore they will war no more being dead war is not hell tragic but enough said love is the fairest lest you be a whore In the war of words You know better than being lost unsatisfied but a chance for more the love of money rotten to the core war is cold far as I know and so is frost In the war of words
In wooden covered wagons on the out
Flanks of town is where you will find the
Gypsy encampment.
Do you have an inquisitive mind?
They have all kinds of entertainment
That has to be lucrative for them to stay
Alive you'll find.
Some people say their fugitives which
Keeps them on the out skirts of town
To where their confined
Yet, through their travels they've become
Quite intelligent.
They make honey sweets with no
Preservatives that are just to a dieter
Or diabetic unkind.
In wooden covered wagons on the out
Flanks of town is where you will find the
Gypsy encampment.
People arrive to have their fortunes told.
They see the signs in front of bright
Colored tents where the palm reader
And the targot card dealer gives them
Some enlightenment
To take them away from their daily grind.
The tamborine shakes and a long haired
Gypsy girl with green eyes will mystify
Any passer by steps in to the circle which
Is the cue for the instruments.
Do you have an inquisitive mind?
I guess so. The crowd moves in closer to
See rose colored lips, pearl white teeth,
Provocative hips, that are really defined.
Sway to the beat as waist length black
Hair with just the right amount of curl
Swirls with abandonment.
Her ankle length bright colorful skirt
Shows off tiny dainty bare feet and
Shapely legs as it unfurls unconfined.
See they have all kinds of entertainment.
Watch her spin, the way she tilts her chin
As you take the dance in it gets under
Your skin as a testament
That nothing can compete with the Gypsy
Girl when she has combined
The twirls and whirls to the music in her
World she is definitely in her element.
It has to be lucrative for them to stay
Alive you'll find.
Her dance is designed
As a convenient
Way for all to hurl coins of any kind
To help support their wonderful life of
Merriment.
In wooden covered wagons on the out
Flanks of town is where you will find
The gypsy encampment.
I'll be thinking of you as the cloak of night weeps lullabies to the waiting moon,
where morning star through cloudless sky sips the sweet of morning dew,
still, if the light should forget to shine, the beauty of you time can not impugn
as in my mind, yet your sweet smile, whispers the secrets of the one I knew.
Think of me if tear drops, like pastel pearls, kiss your soft smooth cheek
and the music stops, when the wind no more whistles across the ocean dune
for when the sweetness of your song, your tender lips will no longer speak
I'll be thinking of you as the cloak of night weeps lullabies to the waiting moon.
Think of me, when the fragrant petal adorns your satin wind fingered hair
far beyond the rough waters that life's long illusions have swept through you
to a place where vining arbors grow, Plumeria, Spider Lilly, and flowers rare,
where morning star through cloudless sky sips the sweet of morning dew.
Think of me on summer's day when melting sun warmed our cares away
like the breeze that caressed your glowing skin, here today, gone too soon
leaving only fading memories and dark lonely flashes of yesterday,
still, if the light should forget to shine, the beauty of you time can not impugn.
Think of me when the verse no longer rhymes and my words lose their meaning
for the muse that once lived inside of me, now, is but a curse of relic rune
which drowns in mumbled eternity, no voice for love nor life's intervening,
as in my mind, yet your sweet smile, whispers the secrets of the one I knew.
Remember me in the cold of winter past, when rain drenched our skin and soul,
clouds of pain like dagger's edge, against each finger my warm hands would be,
with exhaled breath I tried my best but the rain kept falling and took its toll,
before pastel sunsets untimely death, as thoughts weigh kind, please, think of me
...for I'll be thinking of you.
04/18/2019
Your chase!
Reminiscing on the oceans I had to dry up
and the volcanos I had to ice up
just to capture the epicenter of your heart
well protected by strong canines
of your carnivorous standards.
Hanging with the clouds of the highest heights
and combating with the dragons
of the Amazon Forest
was worth all the efforts.
Your Love!
shines in vitality
attracting even the goddess of sexuality
as it preserves the indwelling desires of two hearts.
We stayed isolated in the entire world
at midnight, siting on the mountain top
the moon directly above us
showcasing our shadows
melted together with no space in between.
The stars, singing hymns of love
while the trees danced to the romantic melody.
Just the two of us
and the entire universe
bridged by space full of your praise as I behold my Queen.
Whose beauty compresses the wealth of Europe
and gentleness makes
the Dove and the River team up in envy.
Your absence!
Life endeavours have fixed
putting us in an equilibrium of distance
as I perish in a state; psychiatry has no definition.
In the midst of Adult Buffalos
you leave an unprotected Cub.
You aren't gone, just far away
yet I feel like a member of a loser's club
as love has converted me to a scrub.
Thinking I'd be as worse as
a depression endemic atmophere
with loneliness and plutonic cold its major contents,
unfortunately, my heart is its suburb
completely eaten up and infected.
What can make me lay for days
in the bathub;
rejecting everything beautiful and lovely,
and the ointment of darkness I rub?
To all these my Love!
Your absence is the nub.
But I need to stay strong
as I await the purification of your presence once again.
Kneeling in prayer, I ask God for wisdom today;
Can you hear me God in your sanctuary way up high?
Yes, God knows my soul for he is my true pathway;
And I hear God's silent words falling from the sky.
As graceful angels sing me a sweet lullaby;
Oh God, I am darkness with feet stuck in clay.
Be still child, I will send the gentle gardener is his sigh;
Kneeling in prayer I ask God for wisdom today.
Then, mother comes to me on the wings of a blue jay;
Oh, no more capable messenger was my thankful cry.
For she was truly a gentle soul always blissful and gay;
Can you hear me God in your sanctuary way up high?
Mom planted a garden for the bird, bee and butterfly;
her flowers were wild, tangled and often went astray.
I was her assistant till the day we had to say bye;
Yes, God knows my soul for he is my true pathway.
Mom has wisdom boundless and I confide just like yesterday;
She has patience and listens till I feel that I have wings to fly.
Tells me, I have potential and will bloom like a flower in a sun ray;
And I hear God's silent words falling from the sky.
I am at peace in my soul now but I must ask God why, why?
Why is her wild tangled garden at our old house in decay?
Why did my young gentle gardener mother need to die?
Mom, remember how in lush meadows talking, we would lay.
Kneeling in prayer, I ask . . .
_____________________
June 13, 2022
Poetry/Rondeau Redouble/The Gentle Gardener
Copyright Protected, ID 06-1464-476-13
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Rondeau Redouble
sponsor, L Milton Hankins, Judged 07/05/2022
Sixth Place
The first time I saw her playfully dancing in the breeze
to the soft rustling music played by the bright autumn leaves.
Under the dusky rose sky bursting in shades of red flame,
she looked like a quaint portrait came to life from an art frame.
While I gazed at her with my frozen eyes without a shame,
my heart was pounding like an acrobat on a trapeze.
She was in the park where I was playing a football game.
The first time I saw her playfully dancing in the breeze.
A gust of wind blew her red scarf like a flamboyant tease
and she sprang to catch it with soft wheezing voices of claim.
It all happened when she was tip-twirling close to the trees,
to the soft rustling music played by the bright autumn leaves.
As she was running, her scarlet chiffon dress swirled aflame,
reflecting the bright hue on her flushing skin like red cheese.
She was a feisty soul with an elegance of a dame.
Under the dusky rose sky bursting in shades of red flame.
Her scarf flew in a flurry straight to me like autumn leaves
and veiled my face. I thanked the wind gratefully for its aim.
I quickly removed it and she was in front of me ceased.
she looked like a quaint portrait came to life from an art frame.
Her blushing radiance made her look like a ruby gem.
I humbly handed her the scarf and gently asked her name.
Indeed her name was Ruby, she told me and next, I seized
the chance to ask her out. She coyly said yes with an ease.
The very first time I saw her...
Date : 10/23/2016
Note : Entered in the contest (Screwed xv) by Rob Carmack.
*Placed Fifth*
Written for the contest (Unbearable beauty in-) by Frank Herrera.
How Poetry Began, such plots you tell!
A Tale Of Fire And Ice you wrote so well
Poor Peter Pumpkin bid a sad adieu
Pink Cherry Blossoms was your first haiku
You Echo, Silent Still - love's dream come true.
Bright Eyes plays violin with sweet refrain
It Matters Not, a lovely swap quatrain
Rock Turtles - monoku criteria
The Wintered Soul Among Wisteria
Hidden Beauty - bittersweet rondeau
Dear Juliet waits for her Romeo
And Then Are Times in 'Six Days of Sistine'
Yesterday's Joys, a quatern most pristine.
At Winter's End, a triolet of spring
Night, A Pantoum Lullaby to sing
Destiny, so dark; more painfully:
Reflecting on Police Brutality
Each Little Drop of Rain I See goes 'plink'
An Empty Tissue Box in tear-stained ink.
Dogs and Cats, of these you often write
In Strangler's Wood, those shadows quake at night
Eternal Breath, for one who died too soon
This Night you're floating under stars and moon
Revelation In the Rain, poor her!
I'm Huck - that's right, the novel character
Cinder Girl, burned badly by a boy
Happy birthday, Andrea - enjoy!
September 5th:
Happy birthday to a Soup superstar, prolific poetess, constant commenter, splendid sonneteer, marvelous mentor, word warrior, supportive sponsor, and fabulous friend!
Note: Capitalized words at the beginning of each line are titles of some of Andrea Dietrich's more popular poems from her nearly 11 years at Poetry Soup.
written 4 Sep 2020