PANTOUM

Wet Monday at Rose Bay

the sky in deep shade grey
with milky custard cloud
cast heavy over the bay
halyards tinkling fluted sound

with milky custard cloud
the wind began to sing
halyard clanging bell'd sound
boats rocking bob and fling

the wind began to wail
rain falls on shell scrunched sand
boats rocking heave and fling
striped umbrellas inside out

rain pelts on shell scrunched sand
stinging skin and salted lips
ripped umbrellas inside out
tears washed in white foam waves

stinging skin and salted lips
downpour heavy over the bay
tears washed in white foam waves
the sky in deep shade grey

Terza Rima Sonnet

Terza Rima form: ABA/BCB/CDC/DED/EE
Who am I?

your beauty was olympian and preordained
the river god caught a lapis blue nymph
by her mermaid tail and you were spawned

with an aura of orchids and eyes like ink
everyone adored you but you spurned all
echo followed you overcome by your soft pink

glow,embraced you in musk sweet thrall
you pushed her aside and broke her heart
reducing her to a vocal chamber of calls

you leaned over the pool to wet lips parched
and fell in love instantly, cupid struck gold
the face returning your gaze was poetry art

pity for you that nemesis saw this unfold
wreaking revenge for wounding echo's soul

Petrarchan Sonnet

This is my first attempt at a Petrarchan sonnet.It wasn't easy but challenge is the reason for
writing in these forms. Another riddle! I hope I haven't made it too easy.The next one will be google proof.

Who am I?

Her beauty turned your head around
You became desperate and wan with love
She was married, the problem made compound
by you buying a neighbouring villa above
hers, stalking pious Contessa at Church in town
You sent her a flock of snow white doves
She responded with disgust by putting them down
but inevitably when it came to push and shove
You could not know God's gift of good fortune
your hundreds of ardent poems so amorous
were wasted on la belle dame sans pitie
her bloodline tainted with incest importune
produced an aristocrat notoriously unvirtuous
a perverted maestro,concupiscence his metier

ReadWrite Poem #97

This poem is sliced Allen Ginsberg with a dollop of Gerard Manley Hopkins.

With a headache I dream
wandering in and out of
the brilliant stacks of cans
following you-
Where are we going?
the doors close in an hour
Charon quit poling the ferry
I saw you Walt Whitman
Praise him
lonely old grubber
eyeing the grocery boys
Glory be to God for dappled things
what peaches and what penumbras!

I heard you asking questions
chestnut falls finches'wings
rose -moles all in stipple upon trout
sweet sour every frozen delicacy
and never passing the cashier
lonely old courage teacher
self conscious looking at the full moon
dreaming of your enumerations
on the black waters of Lethe
Which way does your beard point tonight?

Bananas
whatever is fickle or freckled
blue automobiles in driveways
at what price?
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America?
You got out on a smoking bank
I touch your book and feel absurd
and stood watching the boat disappear
We'll both be lonely
poking among the meats in the refrigerator
Who killed the pork chops?
Wives in the avocados or the store detective?
And you,Garcia Lorca
Are you my Angel?
What were you doing down by the watermelons
Aisles full of husbands?

ReadWrite Poem #96

The wordle provided by Jessica Wilson contained spam words

insolent ,capricious,reprobates,exulting,investment,irresistible,chelation,croak,progeny,
cosmoramic,vehement,exploded,thrasher,language, vowellized

Advertising Spam

Tired of vowellized language
by insolent capricious reprobates
exulting investment strategies
promoting irresistible deals
in the event of your chelations
not working and you croak
promising your progeny
the cosmoramic world
at your demise

Protest vehemently
toss the computer
place warning signs of
exploding bombs
in your letter box
and anyone who comes to the door
pedalling this stuff
gets a box in the ears
and a good thrashing

Revenge of A Woman Scorned

I wrote this for a talented young poet from Portland called Dave Jarecki who claimed that he didn't like Shakespeare!

O mistress mine it is thou who hast shot thine wing tipped poison
into the heart of our fair faced progeny as he sleeps
Oh wretched canker blossom now he loveth not the Bard
Thanks to thine evil witch hag curse

I, who hast bestowed on him the gift of making miraculous verse
like ripples of silver and gold in pearl shimmer'd utterance
am known not to mine rose cheeked kinsman, the youthful Alcaeus
who mirrors in feature and figure fine Romeo now destined to
grunt and sweat under a weary life

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child
Why, what an ass I am to have wed thee and not portented
the heartache and a thousand natural shocks
Such wicked revenge is steeped in malice Oh vile strumpet
and all for the sake of the second best bed

Note: From Shakespeare's will
'I gyve unto my wyfe my second best bed"

How many Shakespeare plays are represented in this poem?

Shakespearean Sonnet

On Thursday a small group is going to submit a Shakespearean Sonnet on the ReadWrite Poem
site in New Formalism Group. It's based on a Shakespearean wordle by Joan Houlihan.I'm not giving mine a title. Who is it?

Wreathed by flowered garlands she danced
in the sunshine excelling in seamless grace
admired by swains her lithe movements enhanced
by flowing coiled ringlets gold and fair faced
delicacy driving mere mortals to distraction
beauteous eyes that could pierce a milk white heart
turning it to a purple wound in arrow action
by a cherub, cupid's bow drawn and poised in art
Suddenly,a slate hue dulled the sky, the earth rumbled
tore and split,a black hand pulled her down
to darkness and the underworld in rolling tumble
no bird song inhabits this realm only moan and frown
she ate the pomegranate seeds thinking it was kindness
not knowing that she sealed her fate with blindness

Woman's Tongue

Think you a little din can daunt my ears?
Have I not in my time heard lions roar?
Have I not heard the ,puff'd up with winds,
Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And heaven's artillery thunder in the sky?
Have I not pitched battle heard
Loud'larums, neighing steeds,and trumpets'
clang?
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue,
That gives not half so great a blow to hear
As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire?

This seems a very apt poem by Will to express my current mood state at the moment trying to set up a blog .I'm afraid I could outdo a 'chestnut in a farmer's fire '. Have had such an awful time with this and I'm still not certain I got it right.I 'm intimidated by most things technical and am unfamiliar with the patois/corrupt speak of computer language.For my first entry I chose Shakespeare because he is my literary love.As I sip my tea with a slice of banana cake topped with passionfruit icing I'm planning the poems for this site.Hopefully I'll be able to work out how to post some nice art work as well...this is all looking very black and white.