WHEN? LOST. SESTINA

POETIC FORMS
After the blogless break, three in one, taking different poetic forms for starters, see what you think
and have a go why not?



An  exercise often used for teaching beginners at writing poetry
is to imitate the Japanese Haiku at least in syllabic form
(5 syllables first line, 7 syllables second line and 5 in the last)
although ignoring any prescribed content.
I found it an enjoyable exercise and one of my
more successful efforts was;-

I hope to become
A mature human being
But time’s running out

sure is



Following on from the Haiku I tried a Burmese form, the Than Bauk 
which specifies the position of the rhyme in a three line poem, ie at the
end of first line, second from end in second  and third from end in the last
 I used it to make a longer poem;-

LOST

I heard your song
sung among sighs
and longed for you

I saw your face
smiling, graceful
no trace of guile

and it was you
with words truly
said, who will know?

Then we were one
all doubts gone, with
no-one between

But passion dies
and soft sighs fade
when lies invade

Poems can burn
that I learn when
you turn away.

Well at least the rhymes are in the right place and the last verse isn’t so bad




Lastly in this formal sequence is the SESTINA which is so complicated
that I have forgotten the rules but wrote this when I could still remember them.
I used it in tribute to the fallen of the war to end all wars which included my
mother’s father the granddad I never knew who was a miner and joined up
at the age of 34. I imagine him as one of the soldiers described in ‘Birdsong’
by Sebastian Faulks mining beneath the German trenches.

25830 Private Samuel Worthington
who survived Mons and died of his wounds
on the Somme 15th July 1916
buried in St. Sever Cemetery, Rouen

The lines are all purloined from songs sung by the soldiers at that time
frowned upon by some of the higher ranking officers.

SESTINA

The bells of Hell go ting-a-ling-a ling                    SOMME
Whiter than the whitewash on the wall                 YPRES
If you want the old battallion                               NEUVE CHAPELLE
Do your balls hang low?                                     VERDUN
When this bloody war is over                              MONS
Hush! Here comes a whizz-bang                         CAMBRAI

Hush! Here comes a whizz-bang                       CAMBRAI
For you but not for me                                      SOMME
O how happy I shall be                                    MONS
Whiter than the whitewash on the wall              YPRES
Can you swing them to and fro?                       VERDUN
I know where they are                                     NEUVE CHAPELLE

I know where they are                                     NEUVE CHAPELLE
Can you tie them in a knot?                             VERDUN
Now then soldier get down the stairs               CAMBRAI
For me the angels sing-a-ling-a-ling                  SOMME
Wash me in the water                                      YPRES
No more going in the trenches                         MONS

No more asking for a pass                              MONS
If you want the old battalion                            NEUVE CHAPELLE
Where you washed the colonel’s daughter       YPRES
Into your dugout and say your prayers            CAMBRAI
For me but not for you                                    SOMME
Can you tie them in a bow?                            VERDUN

Can you sling them on your shoulder?            VERDUN
You can tell the Sergeant Major                     MONS
Oh! Death where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling      SOMME
I know where they are                                  NEUVE CHAPELLE
Hush here comes a whizz-bang                     CAMBRAI
And I shall be whiter than                             YPRES

The whitewash on the wall                                               YPRES
Like a lousy fucking soldier, do your balls hang low?         VERDUN
And it’s making straight for you                                        CAMBRAI
To stick his passes up his arse                                          MONS
They’re hanging on the old barbed wire                            NEUVE CHAPELLE
Or grave thy victory?                                                       SOMME


I read that a General objected to the language in some of the songs!
as he sent them to Hell

THE PARAMOUR'S REPLY TO THE POET

I was delighted to see how popular my first blog
THE PASSIONATE POET  TO HIS PARAMOUR
has been and decided to write  a possible reply
by the lady concerned. It needs to be read in
conjunction with the original poem of course.

THE PARAMOUR'S REPLY

Come with you? D'you think I'm daft?
When I told my friends they laughed and laughed

Carol Ann said that you're off your head
Writing poems that no-one's read
(Not that you're the only one
To suffer such oblivion)

And as for walking on Windermere
And riding the Western wind, no fear!

I would like a weekend trip to Mars
To do a Banksy on the stars

But flying by kite is not my style
I prefer to travel by crocodile

I can harmonise in any key
And know all the words to 'Sailor's Three'

But my dietician Mavis Flute
Warned me not to eat a raw square root

What may persuade me is the chance
Of joining in with the unicorn's dance

So--------
providing we bypass the university
I may decide that possibly
perhaps, perchance, conceivably,
maybe on condition that it's free
I may just let you come with me.