Write a rhyming poem that works as either ten lines of tetrameter or eight lines of pentameter. Post it in the comments section below. This challenge comes from poet Paul Erlandson who learned of it some time ago from his friend Russ Smith. Paul’s example is below:
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A Winter’s Eucharist (London, 1990)
A winter’s Eucharist I took
At noon, with Cranmer’s little book
My fork and spoon to eat the bread
Of heaven as we sung and read,
The blood of Jesus on my tongue.
St. Paul’s Cathedral round me rung
With late echoes of Donne and Wren.
How very great out God is then
Who on His wise wheel spun the sun,
As well as Messrs. Wren and Donne!
.
A winter’s Eucharist I took at noon,
With Cranmer’s little book my fork and spoon
To eat the bread of heaven as we sung—
(And red the blood of Jesus on my tongue).
St. Paul’s Cathedral round me rung with late
Echoes of Donne and Wren. How very great
Our God is then, who on His wise wheel spun
The sun, as well as Messrs. Wren and Donne!
.
.
As Summer Slowly Fades Away to Fall
As summer slowly fades away
To fall, with every shortening day
The cheerful call of meadowlarks
Grows silent in the trees and parks,
As cooler air stirs memories
Of winter with each morning breeze.
And when the golden leaves are shed,
The branches then, though seeming dead,
Will celebrate the days and raise
Their hands upward to God in praise.
As summer slowly fades away to fall,
With every shortening day the cheerful call
Of Meadowlarks grows silent in the trees
And parks, as cooler air stirs memories
Of winter with each morning breeze. And when
The golden leaves have shed, the branches then,
Though seeming dead, will celebrate the days
And raise their hands upward to God in praise.
Mr. Tweedie …
Just excellent! You hit all the marks, with nothing seeming forced, and it all rolls up to a very satisfying conclusion!
I am very impressed!
Paul, thanks for both the kind word as well as for the challenge itself. As for your own fine poem I was drawn back to a number of happy memories of worship, concerts and general awe in several visits to St. Paul’s dating back to 1966, although I do not recall ever receiving Communion there. Your riff on Wren and Donne was clever and (of course) well donne.
Terrific, James, and seeming quite effortless! Hats off!
It was terrific and it took him at least 5 or even 6 minutes to complete it. (He was slacking!)
Splendid. Beautiful flow of thoughts and excellent rhyme scheme. Enjoy the read, James A. Tweedie.
James, I am really taken with your great matching twin tetrameter and pentameter poems. I have reread them several times. Not only does the rhyme and meter fit, but the words and final lines inspire!
I LOVE that so much!!! What a great poem and great metre, it was a pleasure to read outloud to myself x2 🙂 Thank you!
Hats off to Mr. Earlandson and Mr. Tweedie and to anyone else who manages to submit one of these.
What a truly remarkable accomplishment!
Thanks, Joe!!
I could not agree more with you, Joe!
“Eights are my size, but tens feel so good I wear twelves”—Adage I heard in elementary school from Thomas Caldwell, violinist extraordinaire
Wear It Anyway
As my first music teacher used
to say to students, quite amused,
“You know, eights are the size that fit
these poor, sore feet. But hey, no bit
as good as tens are they—by far
the size that I prefer. You are
aware, twelves have their points. In thick
new woolen hose my feet feel sick,
and sweat if there’s no air that flows
to make a draft around my toes.”
As my first music teacher used to say,
to students, quite amused, “You know, eights are
the size that fit these poor, sore feet. But hey,
no bit as good as tens are they—by far
the size that I prefer. You are aware,
twelves have their points. In thick new woolen hose
my feet feel sick, and sweat if there’s no air
that flows to make a draft around my toes.”
What fun! I think I’ll stop at size 10, though.
Oops, I guess I should change “But say …” to “But hey …”; and also close the quotation at the end.
How’s that, Julian?
Fun reading! You make the poems resonate with a joyous flow of the rhyme scheme, Julian D. Woodruff.
A Brief Colloquy
At fifty-five I said to Sue,
“Dear Sue who bore me children, two,
Oh don’t you wish with me that we
Had had some more by count of three
To bring our offspring count to five?
What joy would we by now derive!”
Said she, “My darling Jeff, old boy,
Five kids you say? Would you annoy
Me with more chaos and more pain?
Oh tell me true: Are you insane?”
When I was fifty-five I told my wife,
Who bore us offspring numbering two, “Our life
Would be the richer, darling Sue, if we
Had had more children by a count of three.
Five kids. O wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Said she, “Oh darling Jeff, a blunder-full
Household our home might be, besides the pain
In excess for poor me. Are you insane?”
Perhaps it doesn’t meet the “letter” of the challenge, but it certainly meets the spirit. Thanks!
(We stopped at two also.)
I’m sorry, I missed that you were calling for the same words and word order throughout! Ack!
That Place Within the Heart
As the light fades into the break
Of dawn, and still I lie awake
As night drags on into the birth
Of just another day on earth.
I take a moment now to pray,
Transported very far away
Outside of time where timelessness
Is testified at Your Address.
That place within the heart of Hearts
Where we can never be apart.
As the light fades into the break of dawn
And still, I lie awake as night drags on
Into the birth of just another day
On earth. I take a moment now to pray,
Transported very far away outside
Of time where timelessness is testified
At Your Address. That place within the heart
Of Hearts where we can never be apart.
Nicely done! I’m happy to see so many taking up the challenge and succeeding.
Thank you and thank you for your fine example, this sure was challenging!
Distant Over Ocean Bounds
Distant over ocean bounds I
Oft hear beauties at leisured lie,
In songful sneer upon the rock
Of sailors’ woe where hulls did knock,
Desperate to escape the lulls
That sweet did sound over wave rolls.
They come by tide, these myths, to meet
Me as a hum far incomplete
Like that attempt my heart to dart
Away from what love does impart.
Distant over ocean bounds I oft hear
Beauties at leisured lie, in songful sneer
Upon the rock of sailors’ woe where hulls
Did knock, desperate to escape the lulls
That sweet did sound over wave rolls. They come
By tide, these myths, to meet me as a hum
Far incomplete like that attempt my heart
To dart away from what love does impart.
The Eternal Soul
The eternal soul comes down as a flame to shine,
Like a lantern to glow on this earth and to light
Some kindness and love to banish the cold,
But the heart of the human can be selfish and bold
It is full of its needs and refuses to spark,
Like a snake in the desert that hides in the sand
It will burrow with stealth and will bite all at hand
For it knows how to poison until nothing can stand;
But this heart will not last, like a stone it will smash
And the flame will ignite with the fire of God’s wrath.
Sorry got the brief wrong. Thought we could choose to write either in tetrameter or pentameter ( although reading all the other brilliantly crafted poems should have given me a clue…)
As this poem is supposed to be anapaestic tetrameter it is not going to work so well in pentameter.
Guess at times we all get things wrong. But one wrong led to one right- a beautiful poem you penned!! So it’s par for the course!
BIKE RIDER
When I was just thirteen and three
The youth of life belonged to me.
Or so I thought, riding my bike
With gusto and speed as I liked.
The girls coming off a school bus
Would turn their eyes without a fuss,
Knowing that Leo was passing
Riding his bike, bell was ringing.
Until that particular day
It rained. I slipped, fell. Poor display.
PELICANS
Morning at the sea-shore, watch pelicans
Silently waiting, no politicians
Casting a vote for their first wind-rush meal.
All keeping a keen eye for the prize; deal.
To each his own around the mound of rock
Where the fishes will falter on the dock.
With azure sky and early morning sun,
The pelicans watch shoreline breakfast run.
The beauty all around me-Richard Lackman
I saw a bluebird fly today
Across the field, across the bay
And though this was a common thing
Somehow it caused my heart to sing
I realized in seeing this
All the beauty I daily miss
And so much goodness I don‘t see
I wonder what is wrong with me
We are so blessed to just be here
How can I forget life so dear
I saw a bluebird flying on the wing
And realized ‘twas such a pretty thing
How had I never seen this sight before
Have I been blinded to this and much more
I don’t appreciate all that I see
As obvious as this is now to me
Oh God remind me how much I am blessed
Consider all my errors now confessed
The Canterbury Tales – General Prologue Extract
When April frees its soothing rain,
the drought of March is deftly slain
and put to rout, while every leaf
and every moistened root brings grief
to Winter through Pan’s springtime flute.
The West Wind breathes on every shoot
and stirs the verdant grass, the trees,
the heathland furze while o’er the breeze
a newly-minted eye aims high,
ascending England’s vernal sky.
When April frees its soothing rain, the drought
of March is deftly slain and put to rout,
while every leaf and every moistened root
brings grief to Winter through Pan’s springtime flute.
The West Wind breathes on every shoot and stirs
the verdant grass, the trees, the heathland furze
while o’er the breeze the newly-minted eye
aims high, ascending England’s vernal sky.
Mr. Freeman … this is an excellent fulfillment of the challenge! Very well done!!
Thanks, Paul. Your excellent example set a high bar, added to which it helps that I’m a great Chaucer aficionado.
Thank you so much for another fun and educative challenge.
Riplejaberock
‘Twas dillam and the fovis ploves
Did dryme and dundle in the jabe
All fovos were the dromogoves
And the Dom Gurs outjabe.
“Beware the Riplejaberock my son,
The nive that stings, the prod that smarts!
Beware the Jabjab bird and shun
The foderous kindersnatch!”
Now Mr Anderson if you said this was a watermelon I would agree with you.
Only because it doesn’t belong here. In fact I might say, in this instance you were being kind as it is more of a mash potato as far as this challenge is concerned.
I will leave it for another day and another kind of challenge but perhaps
I should ask you very kindly to remove it.
A Bottomless Appetite
I had a dog of breed unknown
To light my days when all alone,
And firmly bite the rump of those
Who dared disturb my sweet repose.
I thought my restful life complete;
As bitten callers, in defeat,
Would make a dash for safer zones.
But armed with steak and juicy bones,
They overcame their fears. Through tears
I saw that tender cuts beat rears!
I had a dog of breed unknown to light
My days when all alone, and firmly bite
The rump of those who dared disturb my sweet
Repose. I thought my restful life complete;
As bitten callers, in defeat, would make
A dash for safer zones. But armed with steak
And juicy bones, they overcame their fears.
Through tears I saw that tender cuts beat rears!
Very nicely done, Mr. Watt!
Appreciated The Bottomless Pitt !
A NEW LOVEFIELD
Eyeball to eyeball, ol’ foes met
On field to settle one blood debt
That has not healed and shall not heal
For aeons more to come- they squeal
And wail and cry and stay so glum
Soon we sháll hear beat of war drum
Alarmed earth waits with bated breath
Will it be harmed? Dark stare of death
None wish- But now they sigh- guess why?
Their kids eloped beyond blue sky!!
Eyeball to eyeball, ol’ foes met on field
To settle one blood debt that has not healed
And shall not heal for aeons more to come
They squeal and wail and cry and stay so glum
Soon we sháll hear beat of war drum- alarmed
Earth waits with bated breath- Will it be harmed?
Dark stare of death none wish- But now they sigh
Guess why? Their kids eloped beyond blue sky!!
A NEW LOVEFIELD
Eyeball to eyeball, ol’ foes met
On field to settle one blood debt
That has not healed and shall not heal
For aeons more to come- they squeal
And wail and cry and stay so glum
Soon we sháll hear beat of war drum
Alarmed earth waits with bated breath
Will it be harmed? Dark stare of death
None wish- But now they sigh- guess why?
Their kids eloped ‘yond yonder sky!!
Eyeball to eyeball, ol’ foes met on field
To settle one blood debt that has not healed
And shall not heal for aeons more to come
They squeal and wail and cry and stay so glum
Soon we sháll hear beat of war drum- alarmed
Earth waits with bated breath- Will it be harmed?
Dark stare of death none wish- But now they sigh
Guess why? Their kids eloped ‘yond yonder sky!!
Thank you for your very kind comment
and well done to you for succeeding at such
a difficult challenge.
Mia
I was going to write that I hope this is third time lucky.
But I have learned from Mr Salemi, that poetry is
hard work rather than luck. Thank you.
This challenge is really difficult but well worth it.
And Thank you Mr Erlandson.
When ewes for shelter search
And new life seeks the light,
When fine, tender shoots unwind
And snowdrops peep beneath
The melting ice, these sights do point
’Tis time to plough and plant and sow.
Now is the time to leave the hearth
And blaze just as the generous earth
Itself bestirs, in wishing to bestow,
Another glorious and abundant show.
When sturdy ewes for shelter search
And sleepy, dormant life awakes at last,
When delicate, trembling shoots grow fast
And shy snowdrops peep, serene and fresh,
Beneath the melting ice, these sights do show
’Tis time to plough and plant and sow. It’s time
To leave the hearth and blaze just as the generous
Earth, to give, a glorious and abundant show.
I too must thank for comments nice
What more an artist wish in life
We write to seek infinite peace
To hide hewn heart from mundane strife
The marionette with no strings attached,
After every performance, wooden bones collapse.
Her ringing ears collecting dust,
A puppeteers strings rely only on trust.
She slouches when no one is watching,
The sting of the encore approaching.
An audience that has no faces,
She’s tired of the constant praises.
A portrait of Van Gogh
The rise and fall of a puppet show.
The marionette with no strings attached
Her passion, roaring, remains unmatched.
With ever graceful step, a new bridge is burned,
For every ticked bought, a new brown bruise is earned.
With rosy lips and a blood stained cheek,
From the same crimson face, salty tears leak.
And after every bow, the night draws near,
She waves to the crowd, still smiling out of fear.
well said.
Thank you for sharing.
Cornish Methodism
A welcome for the peasant folk.
Swift under siege, nest, eaves of oak,
and jenny Wren, that tiny bird,
in pecking order, place absurd,
but sings, scurries round door coir mat,
where dusk-fall swings low wing of bat.
This village chapel, Wesley’s plea,
sung Bible texts in harmony;
when all is done, by sermon said,
exclusive church? Here all share bread.
Coir mat for peasant folk without prestige,
in oak eaves, mud caked nest, swift under siege;
a squeeze box organ, Wesley wheeze with zeal,
this village chapel, Cornish common-wheal,
a tabernacle raised tin mining men,
steps clog-marked, workers’ climb, past kettle wren.
Sermon built, slumber party, wall texts wrung,
preaching done, commonwealth, grace said and sung.
In love there bides a wondrous lie
that vets this fatal firmament.
Immune to wit or sword or spy,
where nothing is as it seems meant.
Where brutal life has dared reset
excitements fast descent to dole.
Has dearthed infinity’s regrets
as birthed to earthed can time control.
Inertia’s laws upset subsets.
Recalculate the span of when
as stasis entropy offsets
so life from death sets ennui free.
Immortal men from mortal then.
To be may be a life to be
again, again, and yet again.
In love there bides a wondrous lie that vets
this fatal firmament. Immune to wit
or sword or spy, where nothing is as it
seems meant. Where brutal life has dared reset
excitements fast descent to dole. Has dearthed
infinity’s regrets, as birthed to earthed
can time control. Inertia’s laws upset
subsets, recalculate the span of when
as stasis entropy offsets so life
from death sets ennui free, Immortal men
from mortal then. To be may be a life
to be, again, again, and yet again.
This is spectacular, ray!!
In places, it is eerily close to things I’ve written. I love it so much!
And, it is “spot on” regarding the form.
Thanks!
Elation here at your appreciation.
Gifted ADD needs motivation.
Think you for driving this creation.
The challenge construction
Drove my deduction
Which first needs an opinion,
I have to mention,
of respect and admiration.
Paul, thank you for this treat of a tricky challenge. I’m sorry I’m a bit late in rising to it, but here it is… finally:
The Beginning
I’m born to watch creation come
Alive In daybreak’s bursting sun;
The rise and dive of butterflies
And hummingbirds and bees – the highs
That always bring me to my knees
In praise of daisy-dappled leas
On earth (our blue and emerald sphere
Of untold worth). I love the clear-
As-crystal dew on lawns, and fauns
That peep through grass as morning dawns.
I’m born to watch creation come alive
In daybreak’s bursting sun; the rise and dive
Of butterflies and hummingbirds and bees –
The highs that always bring me to my knees
In praise of daisy-dappled leas on earth
(Our blue and emerald sphere of untold worth).
I love the clear-as-crystal dew on lawns,
And fauns that peep through grass as morning dawns.
Thank you, Susan! This is a marvelous specimen of the breed.
I knew you wouldn’t let me down! Super well done.
Thank you very much!
Very impressive, Susan. Both versions run seamlessly and full of feeling.
I had to plot out from Paul E’s poem where the pentameter endings would appear on the tetrameter version before I even started. This made my submission a bit mechanical and pretty much devoid of multi-syllable words.
Once again – nicely done.
Just had to complete this challenge.
The Eternal Soul
The eternal soul comes down as a flame to shine,
As a lantern to glow on this earth and to find
Some kindness and love to banish the cold.
But the heart of the human can be selfish and bold,
It is full of its wants and refuses to spark,
Like a snake in the desert that hides in the sand
It will burrow with stealth and will bite all at hand,
For it knows how to poison until nothing can stand
But this heart will not last, like a stone it will smash
And the flame will ignite with the fire of God’s wrath.
The eternal soul comes down as a flame to shine, as a lantern to glow
On this earth and to find some kindness and love to banish the cold.
But the heart of human can be selfish and bold, it is full of its wants
And refuses to spark, like a snake in the desert, that hides in the sand
It will burrow with stealth and will bite all at hand, for it knows how to poison
Until nothing can stand, turning good into wicked and pure into bad.
But this heart will not last, the time is at hand, when like a stone it will smash,
The lantern will shine with goodness and love, lit by the fire of God’s wrath.
Before you say anything it is tetra, hexameter. It is so long ago I’d forgotten
the original challenge! Have not been quite right since the watermelon comment. It is rather good tetra – hexameter though even if I do say so myself.
EX GLANDE QUERCUS
The final springing of the year
May well decay, anon, I fear;
The sun could flaunt its dusk, for then,
I’ve marked my three score years and ten.
The morning’s fire has lit my days
And led astray in many ways.
But twilight dun will trespass when
I glean my three score years and ten.
And should I pray, as e’er I sleep,
My three score years and ten to keep.