Long Volta Poems
Long Volta Poems. Below are the most popular long Volta by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Volta poems by poem length and keyword.
Would you, with me, traverse an unlined field
deny the jagged edge of distant peak
stroll lazily amid protected calm
or listen as the ragged mountains speak.
For some find solace in the chasms depth
cling tightly to the icy broken ridge
while others look within holding their breath
in passage cross the swaying “volta” bridge.
While I respond to ever present winds
a call to fledgling feathers to ascend
to tease distant horizons broken lines
unwary of the dangers they portend.
And yet the pen will falter in its quest
for form and function will decide what’s best.
©11/21/2019
FREE VERSE VS STRUCTRURED Poetry Contest
CONTRARY
A poem personified, it could be me
Yet to embrace analysis, I am averse
Words should flow at their own pace
Precise syllable counts are a disgrace
And a volta can be an empty purse
So, it’s a simple structure, you see
Is a stanza really more than a verse
It always depends on the poetic form
It one appeals to me, then I’m on it
Whether Scupham verse or a sonnet
But free verse conjours up a storm
And mixed case words are a curse
Apologies to all the purists out there
I never wanted to be so constrained
Rhyme is Okay, especially masculine
As slant rhymes should go in the bin
It loses something when explained
But I’ll try and write better, I swear
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Poet’s Note: Beauty used to benumb beholders. Today’s beauty is simply numbered and indexed. One thousand (mille-Helens) make one Helen, the unit fashioned after Helen of Troy believed to be the most beauteous ever to have walked on this globe. (Why not? Western standards only today matter). In the octave of this sonnet, a husband talks about what beauty is. In the sestet the lady wants to know what he thinks about her beauty, and then Volta happens to resolve in a political answer.
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Superficial, shallow, only skin deep,
Beauty, as beauty buffs may bemoan, lies
In a beholder's discreet pair of eyes,
Doubt if from a shallow skin can it peep.
It has to glow and gleam from deep within
To emanate from holder's feeling heart,
And seldom a thing of the visual art,
Born of one’s heart, beauty's more felt than seen.
Fine, fine, but how many Helens you think
You give to me, hailing from head or heart?
Beholders of beauty when think, they blink,
And since it spills over from every quart,
I doubt if Helens is a fair measure
For you— my heart’s Helen, my sole pleasure.
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Sonnets | 04.02.2008, revised Sept 2022|
Me ame agora enquanto
Eu posso te amar de volta
Me ame agora quando, à vontade
Eu posso acender e apagar o fogo da lanterna
Me ame agora enquanto, novamente
Eu posso expirar, inspirar e respirar facilmente
Me ame agora enquanto
Eu posso ver sua beleza claramente
Não espere por amanhã ou outro dia
Quando eu não puder mais ver o arco-íris transitório
Quando eu não puder mais andar sozinho na calçada
Quando não consigo sentir o frescor da manhã
Não me ame apenas no Dia dos Namorados
Mas também quando eu erroneamente desvio
Me ame agora ou nunca
Para que eu possa ser abençoado e sortudo sem fim
Não importa o estado da minha mente ou meu humor
Não deixe de ser dócil e gentil
À mina alma, ao meu coração
E ao meu corpo, antes de me despedir.
P.S. Tradução de ' Love Me Now Or Never’.
Copyright © Fevereiro 2022, Hébert Logerie, Todos os direitos reservados
Hébert Logerie é autor de várias coleções de poesia.
The thorns wrap ’round my neck with silent might,
Their crimson touch a truth I cannot feign;
Cold waves rise up and cage my fading light,
A tempest stirring deep inside my pain.
Exhaustion wears my fingers to the bone,
I watch them fall like hours I can’t reclaim;
In quiet ruins, I lie all alone,
My body aging faster than my name.
A father sneers, a mother breaks in cries,
While others turn from all they think I lack;
They leave me drowning under quiet skies,
Still praying for a breath to pull me back.
Yet here I stay—beneath the storm I dread—
Still fighting off the weight inside my head.
In awe, I welcome Thor with utmost glee.
The powerful celestial force set free
amongst the hills and over the coarse scree.
The winds that whip and slink — the hailstones loudly clink.
Flashes segue to link — I quell the urge to blink.
My pulse quickens at the rank petrichor.
I ignore being drenched, making my soul soar,
I turn my face to the rain to taste more.
The storm will not abate — it’ll make me very late
for meeting that’ll seal fate — my destiny won't wait.
Our tempers complimenting to a T,
and search for impressive clichés in sync.
Remembering that which had gone before,
I’m quite blasé about the hot debate.
This poem was included in the 11-poem anthology dealing with hailstones, in the online publication Pick Me Up Poetry, March 2022:
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© SUZETTE SONNET—SUZNET for short (9 April 2021)
A 14-line sonnet of alternating triplets and couplets, concluding with a quatrain.
1. Rhyme scheme: aaa (b1–b2)(b3–b4) ccc (d1–d2)(d3–d4) abcd
2. The triplets are iambic pentameter [*/|*/|*/|*/|*/].
3. The rhyming couplets are iambic hexameter and include an internal rhyme, namely [*/|*/|*/—*/|*/|*/] (alexandrines).
4. Concluding with a quatrain in iambic pentameter that summarises the poem in a rhyme scheme set by the triplets and couplets.
5. The volta is at L9. OR the couplets may define pivots within the poem, ie a tilting or shifting in the mainline of thought. When the latter is employed, it needs to be uniform throughout the poem.
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LEXICON
ceraunophilia: (n) A fondness (loving) for thunder and lightning and finding them intensely beautiful.
The term is derived from the Greek ‘keraunós’, meaning lightning or thunderbolt. On the flip side, ceraunophobia may be defined as a fear of thunder and lightning.
scree: (n) a mass of small stones that form a slope on a mountain.
segue: (v) 1. (in music and film) move without interruption from one piece of music or scene to another. 2. Move or shift from one state or condition to another.
petrichor: (adj) it describes how rain makes the hot ground smell at the first rains.
In memoriam: Queen Elizabeth II died on 8 September 2022. May she Rest in Peace.
Gracious and a constant all my life,
not bending to public opinion o’ strife,
your sharp wit could cut like a Bowie knife.
With statesmen you did meet—had an excellent seat.
Paddington Bear, so sweet—your compassion, not beat.
You’re honoured as a national treasure,
never resorting to artful pressure:
Deus ex machine per Measure for Measure.
You danced with those freed—gifted a French Guard stead.
You have lived by a creed—example to us indeed.
Remembered as beloved mother and wife,
seventy years on the throne: quite a feat.
There’s no more need of any embrasure.
For your esteemed family, hearts now bleed.
Poetic form: Suzette sonnet.
The title of the poem refers to Paddington Bear saying ' Thank you Ma'am ... for everything...' when he 'took tea' with HRH in celebration of the Planinum Jubelee in June 2022.
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© SUZETTE SONNET—SUZNET for short (9 April 2021)
A 14-line sonnet of alternating triplets and couplets, concluding with a quatrain.
Rhyme scheme: aaa (b1–b2)(b3–b4) ccc (d1–d2)(d3–d4) abcd
The triplets are iambic pentameter [*/|*/|*/|*/|*/].
The rhyming couplets are iambic hexameter and include an internal rhyme, namely [*/|*/|*/—*/|*/|*/] (alexandrines).
Concluding with a quatrain in iambic pentameter that summarises the poem in a rhyme scheme set by the triplets and couplets.
The volta is at L9. OR the couplets may define pivots within the poem, ie a tilting or shifting in the mainline of thought. When the latter is employed, it needs to be uniform throughout the poem.
A prelude to a prompt quick-fire affair,
Nor ever lovelorn heart's innocent heist,
Routine good manners nor eyeful flutter,
Frisson nor frown furrowed, though deemed fairest,
A harmless hailing from the male of sex,
Nor yet the fair sex warmly acknowledging
In a casual way that tends to relax,
Whatso… all show a dearth of good old flirting.
Perhaps people are no more ruled by heart,
Maybe, their sex simmers much more in head,
Or male mystique has turned into tame art,
Gallantry’s nigh but gone, chivalry’s dead.
Seems, Venus shines dim in the evening stars,
And lost has its ruddy red, warring Mars.
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Sonnets | 06.10.2011 |
Poet’s note: The art of good old flirting it seems has gone almost dead. The traditional male etiquette, chivalry, and gallantry survive today only in novels of ere. An average young man has turned timid to make even an eye contact, perhaps for the fear of being charged for sexual harassment or for sheer personal embarrassment. So much as even a harmless appreciative compliment has dried down in civil society. Even in India, the land of nymphs, apsaras, naayikas, and dasis, flirting as a fine art has got all but frozen. In a somewhat humorous tone, this sonnet explores why. The answer is ventured in the Volta voicing from the 9th line.
Apure seu Super Ranking
Anote os sintomas a seguir, marque os que você identificar em si e some quantos marcou.
Para cada sim da resposta marque um ponto!
1. Você crê que as pessoas podem e devem resolver os seus próprios problemas.
2. Você filtra os telefonemas e só liga de volta se existir um problema a ser tratado e esse problema for importante.
3. As pessoas costumam dizer que você não é das mais afetuosas.
4. Você se recusa a elogiar as pessoas tanto quanto os demais.
5. Costuma se fechar mais quando esta perto de pessoas com as quais não se sente muito à vontade.
6. Você não gosta de Demonstrar comportamentos afáveis. Isso te deixa constrangida, mesmo entre pessoas mais próximas.
7. Você raramente pensa no que poderia fazer por outra pessoa.
8. Em geral, não faz questão de cumprimentar as pessoas, sobretudo as estranhas.
9. Não é raro perguntarem o que estou pensando, pois sou fechada.
10. Não é responsabilidade minha ajudar os outros a terem orgulho de si.
Apurou seu super ranking?
Se você conseguiu TRÊS PONTOS – SIM, VOCÊ SOFRE DA LIMITAÇÃO Do iceberg.
Para vencer a LIMITAÇÃO Do iceberg.
Aqui estão algumas ações que você pode adotar para começar hoje mesmo a quebrar gelo.
• Faça assim:
A cada dia, não vá dormir até ter cumprido pelo menos uma destas tarefas:
(1) enviar uma mensagem positiva para alguém
(2) telefonar para incentivar alguém
(3) ou elogiar alguém.
Aprenda aqui: http://bit.ly/Emocione_doe_e_receba_mais_produtividade
Note: All lines in this heap are from failed sonnets that I tried to stack without having any two consecutive lines come from the same poem. I had to break the rule twice. It was nice to find a use for this trash, though. I'm sure a few can relate:
Often I think of how the canyon laughs,
what jokes, I muse, would free stuffy stockades?
And if the sheep had herded men with staffs,
would darkness come out, not into the caves?
What lambs or sheep use cripples just for skin,
to drape within the light from early day,
From their helium balloon canyon’s den,
How would they know if tides were high to stay?
Of milk lavender tulips, though, I flow,
as satin lace in leather stirrups through,
The march I may in august do in snow,
for hell has frozen over, don’t you know?
Yesterday, even, on my t.v. screen,
I saw a child wearing a shirt that said:
“Help save the volta, doubles have been seen,
Terrible truths of one that two are dead!”
So sink and seize this season's silliness,
who does her hair while wielding a sword,
unspoken are the kisses between us.
when prayers pray for want of loving lords;
Yet, my own veins feel lighter they do,
she cuts at skin but doesn’t say good bye,
I’ll tell you this, that it doesn’t do you,
hand me the Kleenex, someone spit in thine eye!
I was in love and now I’m still in love,
but she, or you, you spin me crazy love!
But then, I breathe, as canyons laugh at me,
What? Laugh at these! I hope you stay thirsty!