HI all.

Liz says we can post this one here and I think it sounds like a FUN poetic style...

Here's the scoop as stated on Poetry911:

How could a simple six line verse with four iambs in first and second line, two iams in the third, then repeated again in the next three lines, not have been written before?

Anyway, the form is:
4 iambs with end rhyme A
4 iambs with end rhyme A
2 iambs with end rhyme B
4 iambs with end rhyme C
4 iambs with end rhyme C
2 iambs with end rhyme B
Where usually some kind of summary or counterpoint to the two preceding lines goes on the B line.

Liz summarizes this new form as:

QUOTE

The requirements are Iambic Meter...

Line Length is 884884 for each stanza
the rhyme scheme goes AABCCB ...

Its fun!

Hugs, Liz

Here is an example from Liz....

All In The Mind...


The moon is full; an airy light
encircles it this eerie night.
A blood red ring.
The strangest shadow passes by
it floats across a blackened sky.
What was that thing?

I shiver; still I walk along
and look about--the shadows gone.
Afraid to see.
There's an evil presence a foot
a distant owl begins to hoot.
It's calling me.

When up ahead a witch on broom
begins to fly toward the moon.
A cackling caw.
She screeched and scowled into the dark,
it echoed through the streets and park.
Her hand a claw.

Her wicked hand reached out to me.
she tried to grab hold of my tee.
I raced away.
I headed home, and slammed the door
She could've followed, I'm not sure.
Here's where I'll stay.

The midnight hour had struck the clock
at twelve...ding dong, had sung tick tock.
What did this mean?
I hid beneath the candy seat,
and heard a voice say trick or treat...
It's Halloween!  :ghostface:

Why not try it!
:pharoah2

Ah, could be it be an occident
or just another precedent
that LorII's set?
I wonder where this tile will take
the takers; will it make them make
a higher bet?

I'll ante up, but gamble? no;
I'm only here to give a show
of how it works.
What happens next is up to you,
but careful where you park your shoe;
a serpent lurks.

sLightly tongue-in-shoe, Daniel  

Excellent and a speedy reply Daniel~san!

Cool! I must try this one if my feet will dance.... I'm plum tuckered out from these up at 5:30 & work all day - home at 5:30 - then treadmill or Tai-chi ) depending on day went to de-stress)  then dinner and cool-down.... By the time I log into MM, my eyes are shutting down...  :oops:  :upside:

Liz's entry would be good for Pandora too!  :pumpkin:

Cheers! :pharoah2

No one's surprised you've not the time
to fool around with Logarhyme
at least just yet,
but I know when the time is right,
to stay away you'll have to fight
your muse, I'll bet!

Yet unlike Lim'ricks', steady beat
will sing inside you, stir your seat
till you arise
because your very heart will pound
and make your tongue or pen expound
to your surprise!

poeLightly prophesying, Daniel  

Hello everyone,  

Looks like fun.

Just a quickie to get in the rhythm of things....


    Wait and Prey

    Patient kestrel shilly-shallying
    seeking varmints dilly-dallying
    in fields below,

    spies a vole whose wiggly-wagging
    stealing quietly, ziggy-zagging...
    “Ah! Lunch to go!”



N.B Last line picked up from watching American programmes on TV.      

Love

Grace

Hmmm, Grace has joined another form;
ya think ere long we'll need reform?
Let's give a show!
Grab up some raisins, grapes an' prunes,
bran muffins, yogurt, fruit an' spoons;
it's lunch to go!

sLightly awry, Daniel  

 Divine Traditions  

There was a time when Druid priests
would celebrate the souls deceased
on fest Samhain.
Their crops ablaze in sacrifice
to surrender a sacred price
of faith within.

The spirits that do lurk about
are welcomed in the Eve on route
to places dwelled.
Cold Celtic lands would turn to dark
while costumed man would set his mark:
traditions held.

To honor Saints and martyrs too
the Cath’lics claimed deception, “Boo!”
on Hallow’s Eve.
A festival of Christian dead
complete with Jack-O-Lantern “Fred”
was soon conceived.

The Irish turned a turnip carved
with scary face and embers starved,
first lighted fruit.
A pumpkin patch soon entered scene
so recognized on Halloween
Pagan salute.

Remember when you give out treats
and welcome souls of those in sheets
at your front door,
give thanks to Celtic symbols shared
be wary and be rightly scared:
Divine folklore!

© Lorraine M Kanter

Hello Lori,

This is just great.

Although we don't celebrate Hallowe'en as widely here in England, it is becoming more popular with the advent of Walmart (Asda over here) into almost every town and city.

A potted History of the Ages in one poem, not only well composed but also very informative.      

Love

Grace

You said it well, my buddy Grace,
but LogaRhymin's in this space;
let's get it right!
You're s'posed ta answer with a pome,
or find yerself without a 'ome
when ground turns white.

We can't be 'avin' that 'round 'ere,
so listen up; you'd better 'ear:
"Write LogaRhymes!"
I know that sometimes you ferget,
so we'll fergive this little nit...
just two more times!

Lightly (and do notice, please, the bulging ckeek!), Daniel  

P.S.

I don't know much 'bout 'allowe'en...
nor all the months that fall between!!  somebody says.
Who said that, Grace?
...but Cleo said it right smart well,
so this weekend, come tide or 'ell
I'll carry mace!

Hi Daniel,  


Now lookie ‘ere me yankee pal
yer talkin’ to a cockney gal
‘ose brought up right.
I never noo abaht this rool
‘an o! I do feel such a fool
I’m all uptight!

Feeling sicker than a parrot
bunny oo 'as lost ‘er carrot,
a silly clot!
I’ll do me best to keep me cool
(I feel I should go back to school)
an’ that’s yer lot !
 

Love

Grace

You've got me laughin' up a storm!
The rool's me own... and just to warm
yer engine up!
Respond however you like best
but LogaRhymin' sure adds zest
inside yer cup.

If I believed you felt that bad
we'd ask you over to our pad
to talk it out,
so bring your parrot if it's true
and we'll provide the carrots too;
jest don't you pout!

Dear Cleo wants us all to dance;
our teasin's only to enhance
our writin' skills.
I'm smilin' here and chucklin' too
'cause all our skies in here are blue
above them hills.

Lightly, Daniel  

I ain't done LogaRhymin' much;
ya think that I done lost me touch,
dear Grace, me friend?
I bumped this tile from way down there
with thoughts that I'd find you somewhere;
I hope to end
this dry spell that I've fallen to
in which the sky is cloudy blue...
and so am I.
I guessed mayhaps if I wrote light,
these clouds might part and give my sight
a clearer eye.
But whether you write back or not,
at least today I've gone 'n' got
me muse awake.
I know that she could turn on me,
but we'll just hafta wait 'n' see.
I will not quake.

Hi Daniel,

QUOTE

I ain't done LogaRhymin' much;
ya think that I done lost me touch,
dear Grace, me friend?

Certainly not Daniel! It's like riding a bike, once learned never forgotten.

I am rather rusty at this form, but I have 'had a bash'. I have just returned from a sailing holiday and this popped into my mind.



Around the World

While sailing on the briny sea
a sudden thought occurred to me.
while at the wheel.

The point I like to keep my eyes on-
the slightest curve on the horizon’s,-
my Achilles heel.

How do I steer around the bend,
avoiding falling off the end
sail over keel?

Greetings, your Grace!

Please allow this landlubber to respond with a bit of LogaRhyme:


Restricted to un-brainy sea,
few sudden thoughts occur to me
while at these keys,
but I have gained a small degree
of expertise, so let me see…
Your rhyme agrees.

Three lines, however, ain’t enough
but you have done a super bluff,
so I applaud.
You’ve captained well that giant wheel,
steered clear of craft who’d smash your keel;
I’m rather awed.

Now I await true LogaRhyme
in which you’ll turn upon a dime,
‘cause you’re ashore.
Your vehicle will transport you,
and I’ll stand by to clear your view,
just as before.

Lightly, Daniel  :sun:

Kinships

My brothers been a vital part
of all that seeds my soaring heart.
I admire him.
He never sees the glass half full
and tells things straight, no lies or bull,
flys on a whim.

With vigilance, and confidence
he taught to me, independence
And I have learned
to spread my wings and take to flight
above the woes of worldly plight;
and all I've yearned.

Grace's Home...

We's been away from here too long!
By now there oughta be a throng
at Grace's door
a poundin' fer ta let 'em in...
but no one's home. O, where's she been?
I must implore
your presence here again, Fair Grace
to warm the windows of this place
with tapestry
that you have sewn with seasoned hands
... and pictures that your cam'ra's panned
in artistry.
So open up your home again
for this ol' wandrin' minstrel man
ta set a spell.
I promise I won't stay too long
but always leave a riddle song...
as you know well.


strummin' Lightly, Daniel

Ah, well...

Here's one from our first experience as election officials last month during New Jersey's primary voting at hour hometown, Bridgeton, published in the local paper:

Primary Purpose

Election days we now devote
our time, so others here can vote
for candidates,
but primaries don’t bring the crowds
in rain… or even when dark clouds
all dissipate.

Two hours pass, and no one comes
to cast a ballot; eyeballs numb…
they want to close.
Oho! Do I hear footsteps break
the hallway’s silence? Quick, we take
attentive pose.

It’s muggy here; the air hangs wet.
I’m dreamin’ I could run an’ set
the temper’ture.
Then, suddenly they say it’s cold.
Ya think that someone’s gettin’ old?
Not me, fer sher!

Instructions: English, Español
so everyone will know to poll
their choices here…
yet few votantes come inside.
A dozen voters may decide
who runs this year.

It’s almost lunchtime. Will they come
to use the new machines? They’re mum…
not one faint beep.
The big hand makes it’s trip around
wall clock… prepares for eight more rounds;
the hours creep.

A kindly visitor brings food.
Believe me, anything looks good
just sitting here.
We talk and eat to keep alert,
do puzzles, read the local dirt
for atmosphere.

We talk about the smoking ban.
There’s nowhere near where puffers can
indulge in it.
I wonder… Could folks start to chew?
or would they find no place to spew…
and gag or spit?

Republican or Democrat,
Ms Lizzy knows just where you’re at
in this small town.
We try to watch our P’s and Q’s,
but these contraptions sure confuse
an’ get ya down!

Another lull… we start to hear
about the Pearl Street Alley queer
an’ all the ‘pro’s
who operate in broad daylight
as though our mayor has no sight
above his nose.

Then there’s the new kid on the block
becomes the subject of ‘er talk—
a Peepin’ Pam
who asks two dollars for a trip
to Seabrook—then her shirt unzips…
you’re in a jam!

Election bored the residents
into not setting precedents
again this year?
Declaring who they’re voting for
might hook their name with Bush or Gore.
Is that the fear?

The people in the neighborhood
where they grew up ain’t up ta good;
so much has changed.
The factories all flew the coop…
an’ guys next door all pee an’ poop
outside—deranged!

An hour off to eat and rest…
the latter’s probably the best
for weary bones.
We pack up most, to take it home
so later we can nibble some
when we’re all done.

Okay, I’m back awake again,
but in the time between, my pen
was used just once.
The neighborhood has settled in;
stampeding will not soon begin,
I have a hunch.

At eight o’clock we close the polls
and tally up the votes; our roles
are nearly done.
We fold and pack the new machine
and do the paperwork between
our parting fun.

© MLee Dickens’son 06 June 2006

Hi Daniel!

LOL

Two hours pass, and no one comes
to cast a ballot; eyeballs numb…
they want to close.
Oho! Do I hear footsteps break
the hallway’s silence? Quick, we take
attentive pose. I can just see you snapping to attention at the sound of footsteps!

It’s muggy here; the air hangs wet.
I’m dreamin’ I could run an’ set
the temper’ture.
Then, suddenly they say it’s cold.
Ya think that someone’s gettin’ old?
Not me, fer sher! LOL Can't make up their minds?

A kindly visitor brings food. At least they didn't forget you! LOL
Believe me, anything looks good
just sitting here.
We talk and eat to keep alert,
do puzzles, read the local dirt
for atmosphere.

We talk about the smoking ban.
There’s nowhere near where puffers can
indulge in it.
I wonder… Could folks start to chew?
or would they find no place to spew…
and gag or spit? Oh my! Somewhat disgusting don't you think??

You should post this for critique! I'm sure others would enjoy it too!

Cathy

A Stolen Youth


I don't remember childhood years;
milestones once built on smiles and tears.
such days are lost.
No recollection of the dreams
that fueled the fires of life long schemes...
oh such a cost.

Each memory is hid away
beneath the worries of today,
I have no time;
my mind is overwhelmed with cares
of meloncholic woes and fears
that steal my prime.

The days fly by without a pause,
I feel my life's a hopeless cause
So much to do...
but how can I become carefree
when dreams are just a fantasy.
And nothing's new.

Hi Liz.

Boy is this one hitting home! I must make a go of this form!

One must have dreams - attainable ones at least. I am learning that no matter how little time we think we have, there's got to be a happy medium in it somewhere. We all need to slolw down, and allow ourselves a dose of it.

Well versed Liz - makes me think of our to re-arrange my own time!
~Cleo

Thank you Lori,

I haven't written anything in so long with the exception of 1 recent poem. I decide to the juices going w/the Karnak threads... And perhaps post something for critique after I polish if off abit.

That stanza is the one I can most relate with too. I think many of us rush around not taking time to enjoy life too often.

Hugs, Liz ...
Look for more of these... I love the way they sound.

"I don't remember childhood years"

has such significance for me... but for different reasons than your well-done poem portrays... though I identify with the content here as well.

It's hard to believe you've not written much... and I miss interacting with your always excellent insight.

Love in Light, Daniel B)

I’m ambling in the woods again
where I escape with pad and pen…
yet mustn’t leave
my chair, for I would not return;
that wanderlust would twist and churn…
my mind deceive.

I dare not quit my desk today;
unanswered calls, home visits weigh
upon my mind.
Vacation left some work undone,
so now is not the time for fun…
back to the grind.

Vacation left some work undone,
so now is not the time for fun…
back to the grind.


Back to the grind again Daniel - I can relate to that one.

Hope you are relaxing away from work now....

Hi Daniel,

Sorry I hadn't gotten back to this... Sometimes, with time constraints, I have to decided which forums to spend time in while on line.

I miss interacting with you and learning from you as well...

Thank you...

Your latest Logarhyme is also quite fitting and in my mind and life, I can more than relate--It is as if someone is writing about me and what is going on in my life... THank you... for sharing

Best Wishes, Liz

Thirst Comes First

I'm pleased to find your voice in here;
along the way, one bell's pealed clear:
To write of me
is apt to loose a readers' chains
to face those run-away-from pains
I feel and see.

Third-person writing does help teach,
but oft a reader's thought I'd preached...
and run away;
but when we sense we speak of me
it's easier for us to see
ourselves... an' stay.

© 07 Aug 2006 MLee Dickens'son

deLightin' in the process, Daniel

Very powerful message. Don't quite well. When you have some time, perhaps posting it for revision will weed out any little clunks and bring out the profound message for many others to see. I think the message here is valuable and needs to be read by many.

Best Wishes, Liz

Thanks, Liz... and I'll post it as my next one in Homely Herman's Hideaway... as soon as I can rent a space.

dashing... sLightly, Daniel

On This Night- Logarhyme

Tonight's the night, I wait all year
to fill with fright and put in fear
all who will call.
When little goblins, ghosts or imp
come trick or treating, watch me limp
stumble and fall;

I needn't wear a costumed dress
for on this night I must confess
No mask have I.
Old pumpkin head is who I am
my fame recalled; that little lamb
I once made cry.

A knocking on my door it came,
and witnessed me lighting the flame
on candle wick-
The little lamb had took to flight
into a dark Halloween night.
My treat, his trick...

To see me there, by light of moon
with orange smirk just like a loon
noone would ask-
When midnight strikes, I'll go and hide
my pumpkin grin, all tucked inside
a handsome mask.

My shoeless ex in garbage stench
was sitting quiet on a bench,
this early morn.
I quickly asked why was he there
but he just sat, grub in his hair-
his clothing torn.

I tried directing him inside
to save myself a little pride;
no neighbor's out.
He mumbled, grumbled, stumbled up
and on his feet, said "Hey's what's up"
he yelled quite loud-

I led him in, walked down the hall
toward the bathroom's shower stall.
An aweful smell
coverd about with gravy and goop
a slight scenting of doggy poop,
oh what the hell ...

In his rambling I heard him say,
"I came to call this holiday
and have a chat-
I slipped a passed your window sill
intent to offer a sudden thrill;
stepped on the cat.

The dog awoke and chased me down
I jumped the fence, and there I found
a garbage can.
This guy appeared within my sight
and gave to me an awful fright,
who was that man?

That's quite a story, Liz, my friend;
I hope there is a pleasant end
to give us too.
There's myst'ry hid inside your lines
that sends sharp chills all up my spine;
is all this true?

appreciatin' Light, Daniel