Pantoum, Poetic Form Exercise Options

[Cleo_Serapis]

The Pantoum originated in France, based on a form from Malaysia. The Pantoum became popular in Europe and later North America in the nineteeth and especially the twentieth century. The Pantoum tradition as a poem first appeared in France, in the work of Ernest Fouinet in the nineteenth century. Victor Hugo and Charles Baudelaire made the form fashionable thereafter.

In a traditional Pantoum:

The lines are grouped into quatrains (4-line stanzas).

The final line of the Pantoum must be the same as its first line.

A Pantoum has any number of quatrains.

Lines may be of any length.

The Pantoum has a rhyme scheme of abab in each quatrain. Thus, the lines rhyme alternately.

The Pantoum says everything twice:

For all quatrains except the first, the first line of the current quatrain repeats the second line in the preceding quatrain; and the third line of the current quatrain repeats the fourth line of the preceding quatrain.

In addition, for the final quatrain, its second line repeats the (so-far unrepeated) third line in the first quatrain; and its last line repeats the (so-far unrepeated) first line of the first quatrain.

Thus the pattern of line-repetition is as follows, where the lines of the first quatrain are represented by the numbers "1 2 3 4":
1  2  3  4          - Lines in first quatrain.
2  5  4  6          - Lines in second quatrain.
5  7  6  8          - Lines in third quatrain.
7  9  8 10          - Lines in fourth quatrain.
9  3 10  1          - Lines in fifth and final quatrain.

Here is Carolyn Kizer's Parent's Pantoum:

Where did these enormous children come from,
More ladylike than we have ever been?
Some of ours look older than we feel.
How did they appear in their long dresses

More ladylike than we have ever been?
But they moan about their aging more than we do,
In their fragile heels and long black dresses.
They say they admire our youthful spontaneity.

They moan about their aging more than we do,
A somber group--why don't they brighten up?
Though they say they admire our youthful spontaneity
The beg us to be dignified like them

As they ignore our pleas to brighten up.
Someday perhaps we'll capture their attention
Then we won't try to be dignified like them
Nor they to be so gently patronizing.

Someday perhaps we'll capture their attention.
Don't they know that we're supposed to be the stars?
Instead they are so gently patronizing.
It makes us feel like children--second-childish?

Perhaps we're too accustomed to be stars.
The famous flowers glowing in the garden,
So now we pout like children. Second-childish?
Quaint fragments of forgotten history?

Our daughters stroll together in the garden,
Chatting of news we've chosen to ignore,
Pausing to toss us morsels of their history,
Not questions to which only we know answers.

Eyes closed to news we've chosen to ignore,
We'd rather excavate old memories,
Disdaining age, ignoring pain, avoiding mirrors.
Why do they never listen to our stories?

Because they hate to excavate old memories
They don't believe our stories have an end.
They don't ask questions because they dread the answers.
They don't see that we've become their mirrors,

We offspring of our enormous children.

[JustDaniel]

Quite well done, methinks, Michelle!  One hitch is your use of "assuage."  You may know some nominal use of the word, but I personally know of its use as a verb. Please let us know about that?

deLightedly, Daniel  

A Journey Far Away

It’s gloomy in the rain
while travelling by car
from Jersey – though not Spain
-- but going there’s too far.

While travelling by car,
I’d love to go out West,
but going there’s too far.
For now, East Coast is best.

I’d love to go out West
-- some day, if I retire!
For now, East Coast is best;
my need’s not all that dire.

Some day, if I retire,
I’ll write some things of worth.
My need’s not all that dire
while livin’ down-to-earth.

I’ll write some things of worth;
I’ll taste that brew one day
while livin’ down-to-earth
-- a journey far away!

I’ll taste that brew one day
(It’s gloomy in the rain!)
-- a journey far away
from Jersey, though not Spain!

© Daniel J Ricketts

[Michelle]

Thanks Daniel.  
I didn't want to leave it up if it was wrong.
I've amended.  Thank you for your keen eyes.


Passing Petals

The aura that was youth becomes oblique.
The palest blush will turn to red Bordeaux.
Our wilted petals tumble off a peak
as splendor’s stay is brief on time’s plateau.

The palest blush will turn to red Bordeaux;
within oak casks bouquet and body age.
As splendor’s stay is brief on time’s plateau,
an aftertaste is saved between each page.

Within oak casks bouquet and body age,
a binding spell imposed on ripened fruit.
An aftertaste is saved between each page,
beyond our prime old laurels grow acute.

A binding spell imposed on ripened fruit,
our wilted petals tumble off a peak.
Beyond our prime old laurels grow acute.
The aura that was youth becomes oblique.

[JustDaniel]

Wow! Talk about making amends! How did you totally eliminate the previous post?  I didn't think you could do that on this site!  

Very nice job 'correcting' it, Michelle!

Here's a fun one that I wrote for my son-in-law a couple of days before he married my middle daughter:

The Groom

Jose Angel Montoya noble stands
beside his groomsmen, smiling nervously
as 2, then 12 is reached – slow-moving hands
arrive!  His guests have come... his bride to see.

Beside his groomsmen, smiling nervously,
he coughs... again looks up to see still more
arrive.  His guests have come his bride to see
as someone very special they adore.

He coughs again, looks up to see.  Still more
his throat’s so dry.  The sisters tend to him
as someone very special.  They adore
this brother, bring refreshment o’er the brim.

His throat’s so dry!  The sisters tend a hymn.
A full-voiced soloist begins to sing;
this brother brings refreshment o’er the brim.
Search through vest pocket.  Is it there?  The ring?

A full-voiced soloist begins to sing
as 2, then 12 is reached.  Slow-moving hands
search through vest pocket.  Is it?  There – the ring!
Jose Angel Montoya noble stands.

© Daniel J Ricketts 17 July 2003
in anticipation of daughter DoriAn’s wedding 19 July

[Michelle]

Hi Daniel,

Ohh that is a good one,
and so is A Journey Far Away.

I have only written one pantoum.

Gosh, I didn't know I could delete either.  lol


Great Writing Daniel.


Michelle

[JustDaniel]

Hi Daniel,

Ohh that is a good one,
and so is A Journey Far Away.

I have only written one pantoum.

Gosh, I didn't know I could delete either.  lol

Great Writing Daniel.

Michelle

Thanks, Michelle!

I wish I had time to do some serious writing now, but time won't allow at present. I've only written three of these things myself, so I may as well reveal the only other one I've attempted.  *blush*  LOL

[ Note from Daniel, added later.  This poem does NOT 'reveal' some hidden inappropriate feelings for my dear friend and little Sis, Lori Beal; we've long been writing friends, and I've met her and her family in person.  This piece was a fire-back to a piece she wrote ~ and totally in fun. ]

A Beard Could Spark a Fire?

When one day I retire,
would I catch Lori's eye
and spark a latent fire?
Could it be she's just shy?

Would I catch Lori's eye
should my full beard return?
Could it be she's just shy
of brain cells?  Could she learn?

Should my full beard return?
My whiskers aren't composed
of brain cells!  Could she learn
of latent lust exposed?

My whiskers aren't composed!
They bristle now, it seems,
of latent lust, exposed
of Lori in my dreams!

They bristle now!  It seems
I wasn't quite aware
of Lori in my dreams.
I wonder if she'd care.

I wasn't quite aware . . .
No!  This could never be!
(I wonder if she'd care
should I let you all see.)

Should I let you all see
and spark a latent fire?
No, this could never be
when one day, I retire.

© Daniel J Ricketts 31 March 2003
tongue-in-cheek Pantoum response
to Lori Beal’s Shadowy Seductions

[heartsong7]

Saved by the Light...Pantoum

As full moon cast a luminescent light,
each object that it touched wore a soft glow.
Inside the deep recesses of the night,
that light revealed the secrets far below.

Each object that it touched wore a soft glow,
as great horned owl was spotted in mid-flight.
That light revealed the secrets far below,
while one small critter scurried out of sight.

As great horned owl was spotted in mid-flight,
a screech was heard as owl had missed its blow,
while one small critter scurried out of sight
before it found a little hidey hole.

A screech was heard as owl had missed its blow.
The lucky mouse sat musing its near plight
before it found a little hidey hole;
it would have been that owl’s first tasty bite.

The lucky mouse sat musing its near plight,
inside the deep recesses of the night.
It would have been that owls first tasty bite,
as full moon cast a luminescent light.

by Susan Eckenrode
2003

[Cleo_Serapis]

Excellent Sue!

More please!?

[Aggiel]

Yes, Lori. Here's mine.




Nature
*
The jagged horizon , delights
the hills with grandness and gray hues.
enrich each other day and night .
They merge to add mystique to views.
*
The hills , with grandness and gray hues,
beguile the earth with smiles so gay .
They merge to add mystique to views
as sleepy days on knees they pray .
*

Beguile the earth with smiles so gay ,
they stand in sanctuary of peace
as sleepy days on knees they pray .
and calls of birdies soon will cease.
*
They stand in sanctuary of peace,
to face another brand new day ,
and calls of birdies soon will cease.
Perhaps they too are on their way .
*
To face another brand new day,
they dwindle , lost in sunset sky .
Perhaps they too are on their way.
and fly to nests , they build so high.

Aggie

[Cleo_Serapis]

Just lovely Lai!

I must try one of these too!

Cheers!
~Cleo :)

[Guest_Cathy_*]

~Spiced Cookies~   Pantoum
 by flamingstar

It started with a family recipe
Mixed together with loving care
I give them as gifts from me
As a part of my heart I share.

Mixed together with loving care
An aroma that tempts the sense
As a part of my heart I share
They enjoy the spiced incense.

An aroma that tempts the sense
Little fingers dip in the spoon
They enjoy the spiced incense
They will be done very soon.

Little fingers dip in the spoon
I give them as gifts from me
They will be done very soon
It started with a family recipe.

copyright Dec2004  Cathy Bollhoefer

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~