Songs unheard

The three voices sing a strange wild song in my head
one sings a sea dirge like a siren inveigling my sailor
listening to this voice fills me with untold dread.

The second voice sings a melancholetta of the dead
listening to it my heart goes fainter, my skin paler
the three voices sing a strange wild song in my head.

But the white knight’s song promises hope in the path ahead
I gather strength, I promise I will not be a wailer
though listening to this voice fills me with a bit of dread.

How mundane seem the worries of water, candy and bread
of future calamities is this but a small trailer?
the three voices sing a strange wild song in my head

Brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers: no one has fled
we praise them all; hail him, hail her
though listening to these voices does fill me with dread

The songs are echoes of all the valiant souls who led
by example. But I am no longer a pushover
the three voices sing a strange wild song in my head
listening to these voices now does not fill me with dread.

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Sanaa, says: For today’s Poetics, I invite you to play a game with me called, “Carroll Crush Saga.”

The idea here is to select three titles (from a list of Lewis Carroll’s poems) and to blend them together to form a subject for a new poem.

The following is the list. I have used the titles in bold. I have also used “candy”.

Jabberwocky

Brother and Sister

The Walrus and the Carpenter

A Strange Wild Song

All in the Golden Afternoon

My Fancy

The Hunting of the Snark

A Game of Fives

A Sea Dirge

Punctuality

The Aged Aged Man

A Boat beneath a Sunny Sky

Rules and Regulations

The Three Voices

Melancholetta

Epilogue to through the Looking Glass

Four Riddles

The White Knight’s Song

A Valentine

Echoes

The Voice of the Lobster

Size and Tears

Lays of Sorrows

Theme with Variations

Dedication

Advertisement

In search of… (a villanelle)

I pound the pavement in search of a rhyme
Shivering in wintery morning sun
Verse eludes me, perhaps ’tis not the time

Old memories buried under the grime
Warm’d by the eyes, by my heart they were spun
I pound the pavement in search of a rhyme

My sluggish mind can scarce weave lines sublime
But my feet dance to the tune forgotten
Verse eludes me, perhaps ’tis not the time

Tired and irate fifty-five stairs I climb
My feet stamping a da-dum, da-da-dum
I pound the pavement in search of a rhyme

My feet dance to the rhythm, my mind misrhymes
It does resemble a wide field barren
Verse eludes me, perhaps ’tis not the time

I continue to practise till the rhymes chime
Determined to give the iamb a run
I pound the pavement in search of a rhyme
Verse acquiesces, perhaps ’tis the time!

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Ingrid, says: So, this week, I challenge you to write a poem in iambic pentameter. You can choose either blank verse (in which the pentameter is unrhymed) or a form such as a sonnet or villanelle. Ideally, you will take a walk as you work out the lines: either around your living room, in your garden, or perhaps out in nature. Pound the pavements and pathways until you get the sound you want, and don’t worry too much about writing it down until you’re happy with the result.

All slay the miny Virona!

(Narrative Nonsense)

All slay the miny virona!

No huffling, no puffling, no ruffling of breeze
No warignal of it in the beginning
Except sniffs and snivels and maybe a sneeze!

Slyowly fever in some bodies did seize
The infernal virona was suddenly flourishing
No huffling, no puffling, a slight ruffling of breeze.

We blamed everyone’s aunt, as well as the Chinese
Masking reluctrily as via air it was travelling
More than sniffs and snivels and a whole lot of sneezes!

Knights in white coats toiled coavidly without cease
As the miny virona went merrily globe trotting
No huffling, no puffling, mighty ruffling of breeze.

Jabbing aggressively is the only way to freeze
The hopkip journey of this thingamajig
Attacking us with sniffs and snivels and maybe a sneeze!

Time to attwart its relentless sprees
Our weapons distancing, masking and jabbing
No huffling, no piffling but ruffling of breeze
Defighting sniffs, snivels and that darn sneeze!

Written for dVerse MTB. Today’s host, Björn, says: follow your own heart and amuse us all, you can use any poetic device you want to use, rhyme, repetition, alliteration. I would be super glad to see if anyone comes up with a nonsense Villanelle for instance.

Eyes on tomorrow (OctPoWriMo)

(From Pexel)

Day 6

Prompt: Planning

Form: Villanelle

Tomorrow forever has my gaze
Planning for it, I spend my today
My synapses firing, always ablaze.

Never a fugue, never a haze
Always focussed on ahead what lay
Tomorrow forever has my gaze.

But in a second Life my plans razed
Tottering helplessly I could have gone astray
My synapses firing, always ablaze.

I steadied myself and got out of the maze
I know planning always does not pay
Still tomorrow forever has my gaze.

Both imposters; crticism and praise
Keep me on my toes, don’t let me sway
My synapses firing, always ablaze.

Taking life by the horns is not a passing craze
I face curve balls and don’t duck away
Tomorrow forever has my gaze
My synapses firing, always ablaze.