[Poet’s Note : this is a wry autobiographical memory written in traditional pirouette verse viz. 2 quintains, line 5 & 6 repeat, which is the toe turnaround. I wanted to write a narrative of a weird syncopated vignette, when I was knitting a pink mohair jersey at the time of my imprisonment. I reduced the narrative to a pirouette. When in prison, one of my interrogators was knitting the EXACT jersey in the exact colour & exact wool ! ie. in the final analysis, (in retrospect) everything in human life can be reduced to a pirouette, a turn-around dance ! ]
knitting a pink jersey
mohair with cables fine
to process flying thoughts
political activist
south africa turmoiled
south africa turmoiled
security police
came with casspirs and cuffs
interrogation chamber
police knit jersey pink
~~~~~~~~~
three quintains
Husband made an announcement yesterday at five.
"I'm NOT going to Disney next week on Spring Break.
Back problems do not mix with that long twelve-hour drive,
walking theme parks for four days - another mistake."
My tail is draggin'; I can't fire up this dragon.
Oldest son is delighted, because his girlfriend
is invited to take my place, etcetera.
Younger son will miss me, and I cannot defend
my choice; for six months this has been HIS great hurrah.
Four tails are waggin'; they have fired up their dragon.
Our daughter and hubby are likewise thrilled indeed
that I'm staying home - for that relieves them of care.
Five rabbits, two dogs and a bearded dragon need
more attention than simply a "wing and a pray'r".
I'm not braggin'; but for that, I'll fire up this dragon.
Football, for long a game of kicks,
To viewers oft of bare fists, bricks,
At times a show of gun,
At others filled with fun,
But now more of kickbacks it reeks.
It’s time FIFA gets yellow card
To warn: be fair and be on guard,
Let their flow some fresh breath,
Else, there’d be ‘sudden death’,
For you, your wards the same standard.
Should the warning prove not enough,
The game will get rough, make you puff,
Let cards yellow to red
Act as life kit for Fed,
When reason fails to rhyme, act tough.
__________________________________
Happenings | 13.05.2015, revised January 2024| Quintain
Poet’s Note: This poem was penned following a scandal involving kickbacks of millions of dollars by football’s FIFA officials which was only a tip of the iceberg, it looks as if some warning cards were needed like never before—for officials more than for the players. Here are three quintains, not with ababb rhyme scheme, but takes a limerick format.
The call
sent shivers up my spine
and raised the hairs upon my neck ~
frozen, pondered on what the heck
its owner liked to dine.
A twig
shouted its betrayal,
bending, snapping under pressure,
made my terror that much fresher,
awaiting my assail.
Shadows
passing across the moon
identified her in the night,
a fearful, magnificent sight;
I near gave way to swoon.
The rush
of blood still in my head,
fearing to take another look,
I shut the pages of my book,
turned off the light for bed.
----------
An Argonelles, quintains of 2/6/8/8/6 with a rhyme scheme of abccb. PS needs a generic Quintain, IMHO.
"TWO SYLLABLES WENT MISSING TODAY"
Last seen with commas, running away.
The poet seems distressed and frantic
said it might be a Clerihew's antic.
Or wait, he cried, could be even worse--
hiding away in a single verse!
Or, wooed by Quintains (Sicilian)
or, in refrains (one of a million).
~What's so bad if two you happen to lose
when you have more of them to choose~
Ah, my good man, you don't understand.
They're precious as gold in a poet's hand.
Like apricot hues in ebbing sun,
and crimson's kiss to a day that's done,
they help words weave together like lace,
without them, our lines may lose their pace.
Whatever--at least they have been found--
hid in some sonnet, or was it a round?
Oh good, I can use them right away!
This might have saved my "Rondeau in Gray."
Now, if I only I could find one more,
slightly used, at the second-hand store...
October 1, 2022
I’ve never been to Sicily, and yet
it’s always felt a part of me. Who knows?
Another life, another alphabet?
Alongside Archimedes, jotting prose
in Agrigentum I, with each vignette,
imbibing wine, as bitter as regret,
harangued the hellene farmers, stoning crows.
That Greek me – did I tend (as now) to get
frustrated when my verse was ‘on the nose’,
all too transparently in Homer’s debt?
But Italy’s a credible coquette,
more winning in her ways than we suppose.
Like Rhapsody in Blue’s smooth clarinet,
she captures us. We victims, in love’s throes,
admire her steely claws, as black as jet.
Written October 11, 2022
Decisions sometime results in failure;
we start analyzing our behavior.
Many times it is really painful.
Regret comes as natural emotion
can't decide what next, completely broken.
With failure we reflect, ponder defects,
know flaws, look for the ways to solve complex
situation to think of steps special;
Helps to be empathic to others' needs,
aware of what's going on to heed leads.
Yet, with failure no need to be ashamed;
Successful people in the world have failed
the most times, but learned lesson from it, scaled
great heights. Let's not regret, success be aimed.
~X~X~X~
Rosarian Sonnet ::
The elements are:
-A quatorzain made up of 2 quintains followed by a quatrain.
-Preferably iambic pentameter.
-Rhymed, rhyme scheme aabcc ddbee followed by fggf or bbaa or ffbb etc.
-Pivot or volta L10 or after.
Pasted from http://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/topic/4685-forms-unique-to-poets-garret/#goethe
Thanks to Judi Van Gorder for the resource at Poetry Magnum Opus Site.
Failing to get enough sleep or
getting poor-quality sleep are
resulting to health hazard; it
is known fact, it makes us unfit
to discharge daily acts with cheer.
It's voluntary let’s admit
but unintentional, can’t quit.
Sleep deprivation is seen more
in young generation; appear
to ignore outcomes a bit.
Yet, avoid action, though aware;
to work pressure they do submit;
postpone sleep and needed health care;
fail to do best, though they commit;
timely sleeping they shouldn't ignore.
~X~X~X~
The Signature Sonnet is introduced by B Chandler of Allpoetry.
It’s another invented sonnet pretender in 3 quintains(15 lines)
It is metric, written in iambic tetrameter and rhymed,
Turned on only 2 rhymes aabba bbaab ababa
Volta not specified, but not excluded.
Pasted from http://poetscollective.org/everysonnet/signature-sonnet/
Thanks to Mr Lawrence Eberhart for the resources at Poets Collective Site.
Thank you to the PoetrySoup community,
for being really good friends to me...
Thank you for for comments and collaborations,
And for posting awesome poems for all to read!
Ya'know, every word has the power
to change the course of history...
And PoetrySoupers do it best,
Amicably, gleefully and cheerfully!
Poems, contests, articles and blogs
all intertwine this nest,
Where poeteers engage themselves,
Making PoetrySoup the best!
So now... PoetrySoup is the place,
To come and contemplate.
On all things good and bad in life,
With balance on harmony and strife.
But to this end,
It's a place for friends...
That juggle magical words,
For synergy to be heard.
Diamantes, kimos, sonnets,
Free verse and haikus.
Tankas, quintains, acroustics,
And even clerihews.
So if you don't already have a ladle...
Creativity is your horse, PoetrySoup is your saddle!
Thursday, November 4, 2021
In youth, I wrote many poems of rhyme,
quatrains flowing freely on the lines.
Here and there a couplet would unwind
and on occasion quintains undefined.
As time progressed, I tried my hand
at Japanese Haiku and tanka you
but mine were plain and bland.
Soon enough came some monologues,
they are always in my head,
brandishing wild, love lustful poetry
with blank verse and ballad narratives unsaid.
Nowadays though, I think I may have settled in
with a grandiose display of my version of free verse.
But as age and loss requires and incurs
elegies and eulogies and epitaphs, the worse.
Still on occasion, a line plays out to idylls,
some kyrielles and odes.
Few limericks survive, as learned outside of school
but writing feelings, love, emotion
often lets me play both the lover and the fool.
A pastoral or deep poetic prose may still find
and shape in sonnets may reveal a deeper mind.
Hidden somewhere is a multitude of Vaasokhts
but not a single verse of love revealed
leaving many on the sidelines unknown
awaiting other compilation remaining to be shown.
A rhyming scheme defines my style
Where magic drips on quill’s potion,
If quintains and sonnets beguile
Hands pray for meter’s salvation,
This secret I keep, to win the throne!
Juli-Michelle's Rhyme Battle: Round Five
A swarm of whispers kisses my face
Like tender blossoms, a full view;
In morning’s bid, I find thrilled embrace
Through good-bye romps as sunrise debuts
On fragrant petals carousing dew.
My eyes follow his parting tracks on wings
As day rouses wisps of garlands’ crowns,
Clusters of buds wheeze a mild buzzing
To invite play, bouquets tap on ground
Their hemlines sway, waltzing all around.
When hours cling of delight, time endures
And I breathe him as buds fondle my hands,
But purple descends to weave sleep’s lure;
Sadly, florets close as night expands
Till he arrives, with roses on strands.
For Francine Roberts'Contest
Romance Me with English Quintains
by nette onclaud
2 nov 2012
A young man leads his girlfriend to a tree
one sultry summer eve as night is looming.
the branches of the old oak form a canopy
under which he leans in for a kiss, assuming
his new love also feels their romance blooming.
The pretty girl is innocent and shy,
but from the boy’s sweet kiss she feels that he
might be her one true love; more kisses make a sigh
escape her lips. Her inhibitions flee,
and touching him arouses her curiosity.
Aglow, they feel a passion all-consuming,
undressing one another as fingers fly.
The curious moon, with incandescence blooming,
peeks down from a star-bedazzled sky.
Young love with moon above shall never die.
Written 10/17/12 for Francine Robert's
Romance me with English Quintains Poetry Contest
and now for A true love -poem #2 - Poetry Contest of poet destroyer A
I am lord of romance, red roses are my game
I like to kiss aplenty, and shower with lace
I bring you your flowers, written in your name
I watch you light up with a smile on your face
My heart beats faster, it goes all over the place
I hold your hand in mine, a very kindly gesture
I also hold you close to me, your heart is innocent
I will always cherish our moments into the future
We have a special love, one that is truly decadent
Together we hold each other souls, purely magnificent
Russell Sivey
Entrant into Francine Roberts's "Romance me with English Quintains" contest
10/12/2012
Here in the middle of every day,
A peace between the frying bacon strips,
And eggs that are cooked the sunny way,
The brief thought into the heart gently slips,
While sprit dreams surge through fingertips.
The power of light needs no standing stone,
Nor gathering of crowds to call it true,
The candle flame burning brightly alone,
While sparrows frolic in the morning dew,
Before the golden skies return to blue.
And near the roses sings a speckled thrush,
Rejoicing in the early morning sun
The perfect song to break the dawn rise hush,
A surprise twitch that’s simply chanced upon
Brief moments as nature can’t be outdone
Form: English Quintains
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.