#12: It's a long way to Fall . . .

feeds@yuku.com (Spindleshanks) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 08:17:05 GMT

but it pains me to see the potentially best poetry workshop on the Net fall idle, so here's my belated response to Carol's invitation. It might start things happening again. However, I should admit that I won't be around much for a few weeks. I have a hospital stay ahead of me, and health issues take priority at the moment.

This is not new, nor written for the occasion, but it seems to fit the bill:

To Keats...

Villanelle of Making Verses

feeds@yuku.com (aoms) — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 08:10:50 GMT

You write a poem. Some may then complain
It isn't to their liking. What the hell!
You didn't write for them! But then again

They have a right to read, and your disdain,
Unjustified, may even start to smell
Of arrogance, so you should just explain

You'd had a little something in your brain
That niggled you, although you couldn't tell
Just what it was. No way could you refrain

From getting it on paper, writing plain...

Tilt-a-Whirl, a Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms

feeds@yuku.com (Carol Taylor) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 21:52:18 GMT

Kate Benedict announced the premier of a new online journal for repeating forms, part of her Umbrella Group. It will publish on a nonscheduled basis and will be archived not by issue but by poetry form. The Tilt is intended as a reference for the study and enjoyment of repeating forms such as the villanelle, rondeau, triolet, ballade, etc. Here's the link; check it out :

Underground

feeds@yuku.com (Carol Taylor) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 20:10:56 GMT

I'm going underground a little while
to a dark cave nobody knows about
where anxious friends won't see me sulk and pout.
Down here it doesn't matter if I smile.

There are some issues I must reconcile;
some attitude adjustment to work out.
I'm going underground a little while
to a dark cave. Nobody knows about

this cavernous oasis. Down here I'll
break dishes, spew invective, slam doors, shout,
and wallow in...

Poets in/around L.A.

feeds@yuku.com (Patti McCarty) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 14:17:05 GMT

My husband and I are taking a short trip to L.A. to visit relatives and I thought maybe it would be fun if we could meet some of the West Coast poets I've come to know but who, because of distance, don't usually make it east for the West Chester conference. I should have thought of this sooner because we're leaving on Tuesday, but if you live in/around L.A. and would care to get together for lunch, dinner, or just a cup of coffee drop me a note and we'll see if we can make it...

Nemerov deadline Nov. 15

feeds@yuku.com (Carol Taylor) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 10:20:49 GMT

Winners or finalists have been workshopped here or on Eratosphere before. Let's go for it, sonneteers.

http://english.evansville.edu/Nemerov.htm

Plastic Jesus in an Upright Tub

feeds@yuku.com (slowlearner) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 10:52:56 GMT

From a distance he's only a trace
of a figure, almost beautiful, with brown
eyes glittered to shine from a loving face
molded of white plastic; but, a closer
look reveals the features are coarse,
as though the hollow head was melted
and reshaped over a flickering fire.

A city man was hired to dig
a trench and, with joist and chain and hook,
hoisted the tub; we watched it tilt
into a lot...

Not A Roundel

feeds@yuku.com (aoms) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 10:34:44 GMT

A roundel is wrought on the strictest Swinburnian lines.
It has rhythm and style; it is often dressed up to the nines
With all manner of tropes, which the sensitive poet refines
To suit his own taste.

And when he has done, he won't let himself rest on his laurels,
But ensure he's complied with the strictest Victorian morals,
So that no-one demurs or complains and if anyone quarrels,
He'll soon be...

Poem for Nobody (Title Change from "Halloween poem")

feeds@yuku.com (janso926) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 06:36:48 GMT

In the attic room

on the northwest side,

there's the bouncing of a ball.

In the somber...

Her Hair

feeds@yuku.com (Celimlodyn) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 19:44:15 GMT

...given for a cover...
I watch each hairpin fall
and think, she needs no other.
I wish she'd dress herself
in hair and let it flow
around her - all her wealth
cascading freely down.
I love the subtle slide
past skin, the brush of sound,
the weightless swirl through air -
the glint of gold in brown,
"I love your hair," I say,
but she just smiles and braids
it tight and pins it up
against the nightly...

Challenge 12: Fall poem

feeds@yuku.com (Carol Taylor) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 11:16:08 GMT

Jan sez, "everyone should write at least one fall poem every fall" So let's make it an official challenge. Mine's below.

Carol

Like Lilies

feeds@yuku.com (Carol Taylor) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 12:30:26 GMT

Like Lilies

I'm not to worry for my basic needs:

a roof over my head, tomorrow's meal.

I'll be arrayed in...

Fall Poem (Challenge 12)

feeds@yuku.com (Carol Taylor) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 10:22:10 GMT

My shoe caught in the kitchen door;
my upper half outran my lower.
On top of thirty Diet Cokes,
I fetched up on the kitchen floor.

Bare knees and sodas took the brunt.
Although I'm mostly corpulent,
that's one place where I have no padding.
I wish it could have been my butt.

The old and honorable quatrain

feeds@yuku.com (janso926) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 02:04:34 GMT

When I was young and dumb, I used to sort of look down my nose at the simple quatrain, as being too simplistic, a kind of "anybody can do that" attitude. (Same with couplets.)

But lots older and a little wiser, I have reappraised. The simple forms are a special challenge and sometimes what starts as fiddling around might turn out to be a a real poem or a close approximation. I have issued a challenge in my most recent post in the workshop section about...

Trees Gather at the Charity Ball for our Benefit

feeds@yuku.com (janso926) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 02:30:33 GMT

The vulgar birches, nouveaux riches,

decked out in brazen gold lamé,

come swishing in like they were made

...

Theory

feeds@yuku.com (aoms) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 03:27:44 GMT

Is there any use considering a "handy" mnemonic when trying to write poetry? I have in mind "MMM", which I would want to stand for Meaning/ Metre/Music.
I have also wondered about an IP apothegm to represent one's aspirations:
"The deepest thoughts expressed in simplest words".

MODERN METRICS PRESS HAS BECOME EXOT BOOKS

feeds@yuku.com (R Nemo Hill) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 07:59:04 GMT

I am pleased to announce that the transmutation of MODERN METRICS PRESS press into EXOT BOOKS is complete.

All Modern Metrics titles will continue to be distributed by EXOT BOOKS, including our latest release WE INTERNET IN DIFFERENT VOICES by Mike Alexander. Beginning in 2010, with new chapbooks...

Sestina for Abandoned children

feeds@yuku.com (janso926) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 06:28:40 GMT

Rev 2, final for this workshop session

Sestina for Lost Children

I am no longer confident...

Good poems never die or ever fade away

feeds@yuku.com (janso926) — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 12:41:36 GMT

I don't know how old this is, or if it has been posted here before

but I found it today and really--it made my day. Brilliant. I laughed my you-know-what off.

http://www.journal.alsopreview.com/?p=1373

Harrowing

feeds@yuku.com (CMBCO) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 11:09:59 GMT

Dear friends,

This poem has gone through multiple versions, from tet to IP, yet I am still dissatisfied with it. As someone who was raised in Pennsylvania (in anthracite country, rather than on a farm), I am particularly eager to get this right. The version below is the latest re-focusing, and any help would be greatly appreciated! Many thanks.

Poet & Critic

#12: It's a long way to Fall . . .

Villanelle of Making Verses

Tilt-a-Whirl, a Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms

Underground

Poets in/around L.A.

Nemerov deadline Nov. 15

Plastic Jesus in an Upright Tub

Not A Roundel

Poem for Nobody (Title Change from "Halloween poem")

Her Hair

Challenge 12: Fall poem

Like Lilies

Fall Poem (Challenge 12)

The old and honorable quatrain

Trees Gather at the Charity Ball for our Benefit

Theory

MODERN METRICS PRESS HAS BECOME EXOT BOOKS

Sestina for Abandoned children

Good poems never die or ever fade away

Harrowing