Rondeau Poems | Rondeau Examples

Punch-Drunk Poet Meets Chandelier Chin

With nothing but a jawbone, I
unhinge the night, let silence die—
book of broken psalms, toothless songs
of what was right, of what went wrong
beneath the hush of watchful sky.

No prize, no game, no lullaby—
just marrow's oath and blood gone dry.
I didn’t mean to last this long
with nothing but a jawbone.

Still, blood remembers how to lie,
to shape

We Together

We together can change the way
our moral tendencies do stray.
Yet we build walls round our estate
and over parapets berate
the way that others go to pray.

Nation on nation joins the fray
some indignation to repay.
What harmony we could create;
we together.

Sweet dreams the children have who play
oblivious that they one day
will fight a war of unjust hate
their fathers

Sparks Will Fly

Sparks will fly between two lonely hearts,
But they might end up torn apart.
No matter how hard both will try,
The sparks between two hearts will die.
But then the cycle will restart.

This will be our story’s first part,
Two lovers decide to depart.
But even though both lovers cry,
Sparks will fly.

The two lovers get past this subpart,
And decide to

Oh, Dear Maple Tree

Fifty-seven years ago, we planted you;
    That huge tornado came- yet, you stand true.
                                      

Unpoetic Justice Example

Unpoetic Justice 2: Best Freeverse as Traditional Poems
A poem I will not publish here was stolen by a man and remixed slightly, then claimed as his own. I have taken an original version and restructured it through AI Chatbot and Aphres. This poem will be credited to AI and anonymous. 
I'm so sorry to hear

Dancing in Boulogne-Sur-Mer

Dancing in Boulogne-Sur-Mer


I was dancing in Boulogne-Sur-Mer 
when a young woman stopped me, 
and said, “Madame, you are superbe.”
She told me twice, Madame you are superbe


But I didn’t feel superb.
Hadn’t for a long time, if ever at all. 
How is superb supposed to feel
when you're dancing in Boulogne-Sur-Mer?


Later I visited my doctor to 
ask if

The Axe Boasts Not

The axe boasts not, nor lets arrogance reign. 
By whose hand did buds sprout forth from Aaron’s rod? 
Balaam kept blessing God’s people, was all this in vain? 
Can man know the might and mind of Almighty God?

Man is a means by which our Lord will prod
other men who govern this world’s domain.
When success is

Seconds

Each second dies so brief it stays
among the minutes, hours, and days
of living’s murmuration spell,
in which we mortals have to dwell;
as each moment slowly decays.

Time is inconstant; it betrays;
traps you in it’s alluring maze;
then so, quite when, it’s hard to tell,
each second dies.

Time is not all that it portrays,
that of a roll of endless days.
Too

The Day I Kicked The World

I kicked the world lay at my feet
the wrong way down a one way street
I kicked and kicked and didn’t stop
until I reached the paper shop
and thought my journey was complete.

Between the headlines of defeat
Liverpool's team was in retreat
hearing the call from Jürgen Klopp
I kicked the world. 

My dad leapt up out from his seat
with

Tortured Undead

The nightly rattle heard down the hall,
The shadow form of a man stands tall.
The sound of chains strike fear to my heart.
His chance long past, he cannot depart.
Seeking my soul, he desires my fall.

His pain, I can feel, for after all,
He heeded not Heaven's urgent call,
But let his anguished form to impart
The forever torture of

Alma's Not Normal

Alma is back on BBC
with tales of eccentricity
even the critics said it’s good
they’re calling Bolton, "Brollywood"
claiming it's worth the licence fee

It's warmth is positivity
facing life and absurdity
in ways no-one else, would or could
Alma is back

BAFTA award winning TV
based on the writers family
Willan, she's our Walters and Wood
champions the misunderstood
if you catch it, then you will

Our Town

This is our town, this place we share
we’ve got lions, on our town square
old mills, big hills and Smithills Dean
no frills, aside from our home team 
Rivington if you want fresh air 

You’ll not find many millionaires
but dreams survive, with wear and tear
for what could be, or should have been
This is our town 

London’s alright,

Roadside Flowers

Roadside flowers, defy the rain
handwritten cards, spell out the name
of someone’s son, of someone’s friend
just where the road, begins to bend
at the spot where everything changed

Passers-by said it was a shame
nobody quite sure who to blame
but everyone could comprehend
roadside flowers.

A face looks through the window pane
oblivious to sun or rain
condolences so quick to send
that broken

May

Eight Words 2 Poetry Contest -  Joseph May
Lilacs, Weary, Misty, Guitar, Cajole, Sigh, Slumber, Etching 
-------------------------------------------------
Quote: “A man sees in the world what he carries in his heart.”
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
-------------------------------------------------
One such spring, away from his muse
WEARY night, jaded SLUMBER blues
every other color looked grey
every other flower looked hay
betrayal sadness choked like noose

his

How beauty should be spelt

Dear! How beauty should be spelt,
'Cos deep in all hearts, you are felt,
Many oceans crossed for your sake,
Your goodness isn't a mistake,
So, your sweetness, all feet it swept.

All stony hearts, your beauty melt,
To your love, angels gently knelt,
Praising your cuteness, all partake,
Dear!

In your heart, true love has best dwelt,
Good looks your face wear with a

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