Short Rondel Poems

Spring  
Rain falls
Roses burst blooming
Gardens all need grooming in
Spring...

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Guide me home...

I feel so lost

So alone

No matter the cost

Guide me home...


*wrote for Brain Strands contest "A Rondel"...

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Farewell

must go now...

best not to dwell,

when we utter love's last

farewell

An example posted as a guideline to my latest contest 'A RONDEL'...

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eagles
encircle
snow-capped mountains
in search of other
eagles




Tribute To 
The Bald Eagle

Also Entry For 
Brian Strand's 
A Rondel Contest...

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Joy’s Hope

Sorrow
exhumes grief.
binds ecstasy…
embrace hope; overcome
sorrow.


© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 25, 2010

  
Inspired by Poetry Soup member contest, "A RONDEL "
Sponsored by: Brian Strand...

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I sit.
Outside your window.
Mournful.
Despondent.
Heart has broken in twain.
I feel nothing but pain.
I scream your name.
Silence.
Dawn appears.
Rosy fingers stretch across-
The dew laden grass.
Yet still.
Outside your window.
I sit....

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The  silence

And  the  antiseptic  air .

The sound  of  pain

In  that  dreaded  chair .

Your  jaw  now  dead

With  a  tongue  to  choke .

"RIGHT ! ,  you're  next  Seán " .

The  voice  that  broke

The  silence .





Inspired for Brian's rondel contest ....

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I tried a mono rhyme,
but ended up with mumps;
I tried a nursery rhyme,
but mother goose got bumps.
Just when you cinqku got it,
you choka big one down.
Your ode is not so epic;
that rondel won’t come ‘round.
I tanka guy I met here,
Encouraged verse d’light.
Haikudos on your placement;
What I Believe’s just right....

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Literature

is the creation of words:

funny, sad, dramatic, tragic or satirical...

so adored by writers,

to appease their exploding passion through

literature!


Literature

is verse or prose...

seen by different eyes;

its works outlast us:

excellence is the essence in

literature!


Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci...

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But I’ll refrain, she said to me.
I have my doubts, will wait and see.
She’s broken silence in the past;
her gossiping is unsurpassed,
the queen of gab in royal reign,
but I’ll refrain.

See, I’m not one to talk about,
to cast aspersions, or bring doubt,
or I might be inclined to say
her tongue is loose and it won’t stay,
but I’ll refrain.

—————

A Short Rondel: aabbcC ddeeC...

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Riding on life’s carousel 
Seasons and years spin by
Round and round the horses fly
We’re dizzy under it’s spell.

Repeating patterns we know so well
Never asking why
Riding on life’s carousel 
Seasons and years spin by.

The time will come to bid farewell
Those who stay on will say, “good-bye”
“Time to get off”, the midway man’s cry,
Do we dismount in heaven or hell?
Riding on life’s carousel....

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Tapestry of Mist

But was it an illusion
through the tapestry of mist?
…an imagination's twist?
…a feathered filled delusion?

Perhaps, t’was the admission
tired of living to exist,
but was it an illusion
through the tapestry of mist?

An angel apparition 
softly smiling love’s assist…
telling her to coexist
with love, His strong tradition.
But was it an illusion
through the tapestry of mist?


Janet L Vick
Rondel form...

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Lyric poets, lovers of fine rhyme;
balladeers who weave with lines a tale;
satirists and bards of the sublime,
and troubadours who sing a light rondel.
Will my muse appear to me and show it?
That place I long to be, where they all dwell. . . 
and I'm with them because I am a poet.

(LInda-Marie, I know how you love doing spur of the moment stuff. haha. You are IT. You 
have to end your poem with those words, "I am a poet.")...

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Devious in my feeble step...
seeking some pure, fresh air
and lay under a shady, tall fir
with strong desire on my lip.


My forehead continues to drip,
not finding any soothing lair; 
devious in my feeble step...
seeking some fresh, pure air. 


God! halt the desperado's grip...
if he acts in fierce dispair,
resorting to the wildest temper
with his voice lashing like a whip!
Devious in my feeble step...
seeking some pure, fresh air....

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.                           
.                             You
                          and your
                        brothers and
                      sisters are now
  missed most dearly, one million strong yearly.
        'tis more than a loss, t'is a holocaust.
                     Wisdom dictates
                         love is life.
                           We miss
                              you.




for Brian Strand's "Rondel"...

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Oh, could I be a child again.
Mommy and Daddy standing by
My hurts to kiss, my tears to dry,
When life was easy, little pain.

I sang and played in sun and rain.
The days of childhood too soon fly.
Oh, could I be a child again,
Mommy and Daddy standing by.

I yearn for childhood now in vain.
It's gone as though a fleeting sigh,
I can't return hard as I try,
Though such fond memories remain.
Oh, could I be a child again.


For Jared's Rondel contest...

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A child I was and nothing more,
When first I gazed upon the sea,
I wandered here along the shore,
A-dreaming all the things to be,
When life was still a mystery,
Each day something new to explore.
A child I was and nothing more,
When first I gazed upon the sea,
But now with you I share my shore,
In realms of love, of you to me,
And so I know my destiny,
Like all the days I knew before.
A child I was and nothing more,
When first I gazed upon the sea.





Form: Rondel Prime...

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My love show me thy heart is mine
in one, sweet kiss as lips invite
as all of me is indeed thine
beneath the moon's silvery light.

Oh let me taste thy sweetest wine
beneath the moon's silvery light
my love show me thy heart is mine
I'll surrender to thee tonight

Thy touch sends shivers down my spine
and lifts my heart to greater height
as wild senses, meekly resign
and succumb to passions delight.
My love show me thy heart is mine
beneath the moon's silvery light....

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Someday the spring will be ours
Someday loves dice will fall for sure
Some summer when time waits to lure
Our hearts to find just the right hours.
No brook shall steal away the flowers
Nor dirty spring waters pure.
Someday the spring will be ours
Someday loves dice will fall for sure.
Fascination becomes the tour
For springs trumpets are not lour.
We quietly search the towers
Where first we discovered allures.
Someday the spring will be ours.










{Rondel form}...

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You’re sure to get the meaning 
of, “Meaner than a junkyard dog”.
It makes you want to run, not jog;
to avoid a severe creaming.

If you dis your girl by screaming,
ranting, raving like a road hog.
You’re sure to get the meaning 
of, “Meaner than a junk yard dog”.

If toward lying you are leaning,
think twice, tell the true story.
You don’t want it to get gory.
Time is over for verbal preening.
You’re sure to get the meaning.  

© Jun 03 2010 For Jared’s contest “The Rondel”...

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Give me your love, a man desires it all
Even though he is undeserving of
Your thought, it’s to your heart he makes his call
So, standing here I say – Give me your love

Or shall these words be lost, never heard of
His heart thus left into the pain and fall
Beneath the skies with only stars above

Your answer, then, can make him small or tall
His soul in your hands like a lost glove
As I say the words that give you my all
Give me your love!





© JG Farmer 2017
Form: Rondel...

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Sleep well my darling and your dreams 
of us be at Paris spring time
Rue Du Chat Qui Pêche it seems
Will forever now remain prime
In my mind what the street name means
Street of the fishing cat and I’m
Remembering the many schemes
of us at Paris spring time
When you were in your denim jeans
And we made Eiffel Tower climb
We were then only in our teens
Such effort now seems like a crime
Sleep well my darling and your dreams
Remembering the many schemes
Of us be at Paris spring time...

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