Short Rondel Poems
Short Rondel Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Rondel by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Rondel by length and keyword.
Guide me home...
I feel so lost
So alone
No matter the cost
Guide me home...
*wrote for Brain Strands contest "A Rondel"
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'
eagles
encircle
snow-capped mountains
in search of other
eagles
Tribute To
The Bald Eagle
Also Entry For
Brian Strand's
A Rondel Contest
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
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.
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 .
Form:
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.
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
Every day is getting longer,
find your natural remedy;
Bathe in sunshine and the sea,
run with spontaneous thunder;
A flush is dragging you under,
leading you to serenity;
Every day is getting longer,
find your natural remedy;
Intensity has gone darker,
it happens almost too slowly;
Always returning faithfully,
poetic sunrays grow stronger;
Every day is getting longer.
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
I crave the quiet not the dark,
filled with such a heavy feeling;
The silence so overwhelming
always obliterates that spark;
This ship you can’t disembark,
even as your mind’s left reeling;
I crave the quiet not the dark,
filled with such a heavy feeling;
On my psyche it’s left it’s mark,
vital blood begins congealing;
As I stare up at the ceiling,
I crave the quiet not the dark.
Look at where your behavior led,
to the candles in my bedroom;
Close enough to smell my perfume;
Come, tear into this silken thread;
You may use the nickname instead,
I tend to call it a playroom;
Look at where your behavior led,
to the candles in my bedroom;
Wax dripping where it’s intended,
your glow on me turns to a plume;
Ready to give in and assume,
look at where your behavior led.
The flip side of a stinging bee,
an exquiste honey jar spell.
A North Florida storm befell
her city like fierce fantasy.
Tender morsels sensitively
took control of a wishing well.
An exquiste honey jar spell,
the flip side of a stinging bee.
Covered all over so sweetly,
birdsong now unable to yell.
Urban magic hits personal,
it cannot land delicately.
The flip side of a stinging bee.
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.
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
To think that I could set a spell
and have a little chat,
that out might pop a sweet rondel
like rabbits from a hat
whose origins no bard could tell -
can you imagine that?
But what might mystify me more:
to call that work my own.
Would you not have to silence shame
or are such thoughts unknown?
The tech is cool, that much is true;
sometimes my mind is blown,
but characters are often lost
once typed into a phone.
Grateful for my blistered anger
propelled by a tolerance break;
Awe can put an end to slander
when it’s about all you can take;
Most of the time I curb dander,
often it’s gone with a handshake;
Grateful for my blistered anger
propelled by a tolerance break;
Mashed up processes meander
leaking out into fists that shake;
Some may be slow on the uptake
trying me was the first mistake;
Grateful for my blistered anger.
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.")
Just languishing in la la land
holding on with the tightest grip;
That mundane day is such a trip,
ignoring a good time is banned;
A severe lifestyle becomes fanned
with the start of a grande courtship;
Just languishing in la la land
holding on with the tightest grip;
At no time knowing where you stand
can cause what is stable to slip;
You come up with a clever quip,
‘Sardanapalian’s our brand.’
Just languishing in la la land.
Abstract art chiseled in cement,
it’s an overlooked time capsule.
You can see the old gathered pool,
a sunny day with wet pavement.
An afternoon filled with time spent
created with that ancient tool.
Abstract art chiseled in cement,
it’s an overlooked time capsule.
Take in the words the poet sent.
To walk upon it? You’re a fool.
Each stroke a facet of the jewel,
you can feel the poet’s lament.
Abstract art chiseled in cement.
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.
In sprechgesang the woman spoke,
she hoped for a soft translation;
While she sought to relieve tension,
that feeling inside of her woke;
Her warm smile wore a foreign cloak
which veiled an obscure emotion;
In sprechgesang the woman spoke,
she hoped for a soft translation;
Every ounce of self control broke
wandering through this delusion;
A clear mind can end confusion,
provide a path through mental smoke;
In sprechgesang the woman spoke.
.
. 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"
With a ‘May the Force be with you.’
we have an instant connection.
Bespin’s a welcome distraction,
right through the asteroids they flew.
We’re members of the Falcon’s crew,
each essential to it’s function.
With a ‘May the Force be with you.’
we have an instant connection.
Multiplex, drive-in, the whole slew.
Say it fierce, there’s no objection.
Other films? No competition.
You tell me that you love them too,
with a ‘May the Force be with you.’
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