Long Two lines Poems
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SECOND CHANCE
Chance!
Soon flees
like breeze.
Second chance
to enhance
performance.
Fortune can bless
Next chance peerless.
No miss, no mess.
Later, no less.
Chance : second time
is the most prime
may be light lime.
To lose is crime.
Second chance
Delight dance
On one glance.
Capture,
My Dear.
Once!
First stanza: One line, one syllable.
Second stanza: Two lines, two syllables…. After Fourth reverse diminishing
in same pattern.
09/ 05/16 Second Chance Poetry Contest by Nayda Ivette Negron
To die an old man, tasks left on slow burn,
And as fake coins do, get reborn ‘pon earth;
Work harder still, more mileage points to earn,
Which, heaven calls goodly deeds well their worth,
To repeat none of careless omissions,
Careful avoiding sinful commissions,
Grow up again and relearn things ere learnt,
Suffer old age again, same helplessness,
Begin and end with diapers no less,
Same hassles of life, oh what a huge stunt!
And yet, there are welcome blessings to fore:
Mother's love— not else in life be so good,
Worth returning to earth often and more,
Another, innocence of the childhood,
And its older version— second childhood,
For small joys, pleasures, life's trinkets so rife,
And that hard lesson learnt in adulthood
That true joys come from trivial things of life.
For sure, this journey of life has odd rules,
Where humans are handed worse punishment—
Being treated no better than draught mules
That must learn things learnt ere— in chastisement,
The karmic fate— there's no meaner kill-joy,
But is not life God's play-act to enjoy?
And still I'd feel, life comes with mixed blessings,
Like coins it comes with two sides: joy and strife,
One may call it tyranny of this life,
Of destiny that in a dual voice sings.
And poor man, whether he likes it or not,
Must empty ere refill his karmic pot!
And still, I love you O life, fall or spring,
I like this journey, pray keep me calling. ……
____________________________________________
Musings | 03.07.16 | Ode
Poet’s note: This first part of the Ode starts with ten lines in the first stanza. Every stanza progressively loses two lines, ending with a pair of couplets. For, each lifespan is supposed to reduce the journey of evolution that ends with Liberation. But as this poem seems in love with life, it continues and carries on.
Between grains of ancient fine sand
desert roses hidden from sight—
Colourful, exquisitely fanned.
They formed in darkness; pressure shaped.
Each perfect corolla agape
in floral whorl of sharp crescents;
fluorescent and phosphorescent.
Against injustices they railed—
within shed tears, I saw their plight.
In our moral duty we’ve failed.
Their troubled spirits to immerse
in laughter which abounds in verse.
Pococurante obedience.
Parting: an Aubade in a sense.
POET'S NOTE
Updated 25th Aug with the mosaic rhyme in the final two lines:
obedience & Aubade in a sense.
Recommended reading: Desert rose selenite/gypsum.
POETIC FORM: Saraband sonnet (I used the BASIC French rhyme scheme, extended).
The Saraband(e) derives its name from a fast erotic dance of the 1500s of Mexico and Spain which originated in the East. It is a stanzaic form imitating the dance steps and written in any number of septets. The various forms consist of tercets (axa—‘x’ being unrhymed) or triplets (aaa); the chief difference being in the rhyme schemes of the quatrains: English (axa bcbc), Spanish (aaa bcbc), Italian (axa bccb OR aaa bccb), and French (only axa bbcc). Each subsequent stanza repeats the rhyme scheme set in the first stanza, but in the longer Saraband poems it is not unusual to mix Spanish, Italian and/or French septets. Any metrical foot; any metrical line—some authorities insist on octal syllabic lines rendering it minor art (= 8 syllables per line) but this is not cut and dry.
Saraband Sonnet: It comprises 2 septets. Rhyme scheme: It depends on the form chosen. In the sonnet form, the rhyme schemes have been extended for the French variant (aZa in the tercets where 'z' rhymes), and Italian variant (aba cddc—thus, an addition ‘b’ in the tercets). Some examples can be found where the rhyme scheme for the second septet is progressive. It may be octasyllabic, iambic or trochaic tetrameter, or an extra foot (iambic pentameter) may be added to conform to the basic sonnet. The volta is at L8. I have experimented with the rhyme scheme: aza bbcc, dzd eeff.
"life goes on...even though our hopes are crushed...
leave their dreams to the dream catchers" (By Poet)
inhaled alluring fragrance floating around me ~
imbibed radiance of the gleaming red roses
gradually those roses losing their enchanting sheen,
their unique lustre and hue diminishing, some dried,
parched petals already hopelessly crumbled on the hard floor,
fading, shrivelling, drooping, descending.
my heart aching mournfully to see them decline and fall,
who can stop the inevitable...one by one...those flowers
will lose their shimmering petals, painfully reminiscent
of the decay of a sublime beauty - cruelly discarded.
life goes on...even though our hopes are crushed,
even though a few flowers, which could have fully bloomed
and enchanted the world... fall and perish.
they leave their dreams to the dream catchers
to be cherished…
October 10, 2021
Inspired by "Let's Mix It Up" Poetry Contest
Two lines Of Unrhymed Couplet (12 syllables each)
Eight lines of Unrhymed Free Verse (Imagism)
One Stanza Of Unrhymed Free Verse
Sponsor: Constance La France
SECOND PLACE
For Strand - 1059 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
In a session of shower
I send two lines in whatsapp
And wait for some flowers
To bring me a bird seated on a second
If not on hours
Why no bee yet
Is the other window now
Tired of alphabet
Or after another bait?
I feel uneasy
Are my words far from sea
Lacking the flavour of a glee
Whatever it may be
I miss the dense tree
Of blueberry
In the swing of fancy
Far away
From all property
Of land building or sea
At sunup, I
Wait for the cup
The crimson link-up
Tactile memories of touch
In today's embroidered crutch
But no cup yet
Seconds and minutes militate
I wait
For the playmate
To palliate
And sedate
Late autumn here in Bengal
Unlike in the West
Is still a boy and girl of nineteen
Walking hand in hand
Brand 'Hemanta’
The name for the season
As wind blows up sands
As riverbanks chat with woodland
Pink yellow and green
Leaves and flowers umpteen
Can be seen
Writing lyrics
Pink drumsticks
Winter is yet to set foot
Frost yet to collect at the root
To erase monotony
I come to hug the shadow of mahogany
From nowhere
Clouds gather in the small golden plates near the trunk
The chipmunks run away
Light and shade in your plait
I have to wait
I look up to the sky
Where clouds fly
Storm unfurls
Their headful of grey curls
Laugh and say
Why do you shake your leg so much in dismay
Haven't you seen the evening
Waiting for hours in its swing
To hug the jasmine blooming
Starlight guiding them
Just look how the sunshine
Kisses the clouds
A twilight flower drops into
A white sea
Expanse for trance
No need for your eyelashes to dance
Instead of getting tempted
By the red and yellow petals
Of being impulsive
Wait and enjoy
The cloud and sun hug
November 16, 2017
A letter arrived in my mail - two lines -
From someone in a very distant past,
Like a faded dream in my existence,
Like an aching happiness,
always remained in the heart,
A friend, I didn’t see for decades,
but felt the presence, no matter what.
Those two lines brought everlasting memories,
Like the resounding waves from the immense ocean,
Reminiscences of amazing days,
recollections of unforgettable moments.
Minutes passed, hours, and an entire day,
My mind was occupied with one thought -
of an unconditional Love.
My past, a different era,
surrounded by illusions,
restrictions blocking judgement,
I let go the ultimate truth of my life,
my oasis,
Blinded by unexpressed emotions,
Following a mirage,
Life stopped.
Years and years of separation,
Now those two lines made all the sense,
From the depth of my heart,
A creeper-like craving emanated ~
a yearning I could not deny ~
And so I wrote ...in reply,
A Poem.
October 11, 2020
For "and so I wrote a poem" Premiere Poetry Contest (Placed 6th)
Sponsor: John Lawless
The land you grow on is His,
As water is, sunlight is;
And I'm but a care keeper
And claim to be no owner,
I raise crops blest by His bliss…
He says, heart gone to each plant,
Each makes him feel so pleasant
He strokes them with tender hands,
Two long-lost souls as old friends—
A friendship that feels no lent!
Wishes well, fruits and flowers,
Admires beauty of bowers,
To fresh buds, fragrant blossom,
With praise ever so handsome,
And keen advice he showers:
A season there’s to mature,
Heed to haste nor waste, be sure—
Enemies that kill childhood,
Cherish, long as lasts and good,
It helps old age to endure,
Nor wither before your time
Ere your growth reaches its prime,
He walks on to feel young fruits:
Never miss to thank your roots,
Growth’s fine, but roots only rhyme.
Seeds and leaves as do all else,
Each its success story tells,
Ungrateful O never be,
Be a proud offspring of tree,
Bear in mind till ring loud bells.
And whilst gardener's wards nodded,
A pregnant breeze, yon, wafted:
His nature is to nurture,
Not to heed, Nature’s nature,
Rare if advice is heeded.
__________________________________
Musings | 03.03.16 |
Poet’s Notes: With loving hands and heart a gardener nurtures a garden. He treats greens as living beings, as they really are, and tends to counsel them with well-meaning words. But even from my not so sound knowledge of gardening I know: not to heed humans is Nature’s nature, a sentiment that reflects in the last two lines of this poem.
Escape from mirrors of reality...
are wondrous trips to lands of poetry,
where inner thoughts and visions come to be
expressed with chosen words of imagery...
reflecting the deep heart and soul of me.
Like brilliant jewels are the words I see,
each one, a shining gem placed artfully
to paint emotions that from me flow free,
reflecting wonders of life's mystery...
of nature, God and our humanity.
To share my thoughts and feelings naturally
through words that paint a soulful scenery,
which readers may relate to, hopefully,
may help to soothe and heal them peacefully
or wake up hidden joys from memory.
Though thoughts, through poetry, spring fluently;
the want to read, enjoy, flows endlessly.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: December 2018
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 12/06/2018
~1st Place~
Contest: Why Would Your Self-Expression Matter To Others
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Judged: 10/04/2018
Questions Addressed:
Why write and share your writings? (stanzas 1, 2)
Why would your self-expression matter to others? (stanza 3)
Does the world needs more poetry (last two lines)
What if I read to you a story Starting
once upon a time
And you realised that is was your
Life spelt out on every Line.
Would you hear my voice and Wonder as it
Brushed across each word and pray my Arms have the strength to hold the truth About your world
would your view on life be different and would it shock you most to find that
the things you thought defined you could be
Summed up in just two lines and all the
Ones you took for granted the ins and outs of
Everyday play a bigger part in who you are
Then you ever dared to say would you wonder
At the pages left and all the places that they could lead then vow to make
each moment one that you’d be very proud to read because there is the story
of your life but its you who holds the pen and i hope you fill the pages right
before you reach the
end
I observe the man
whose eyes sparkle with humor.
His robust laughter
demonstrates abundant joy.
I can also tell
he doesn’t keep things buried;
he is not afraid
to show who he is because
he knows well his worth,
and yet he’s humble enough
to let others shine.
Nearer to him now,
I sense from his voice and stance
he relishes life
and inspires great confidence.
Though he’s not gorgeous,
his features are quite striking.
His scent is manly.
I can’t be the only one
wishing to be on his arm!
(Choka poetry can go on and on indefinitely
and finishes with two lines of 7/7)
For the "That is Sexy" Poetry Contest of Lewis Raynes