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2006 Form Challenges
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The Pantoum was originally a Malaysian form of poetry, but was adopted and adapted by the French and became very popular with them,
Fouinet, Hugo and Baudelaire, being amongst the foremost users of this form.
The French liked it probably because of the way the quatrains were linked to each other, making it similar to existing French forms. The rhyme pattern is as follows; A1, B1, A2, B2, ... B1, C1, B2, C2, etc, the last stanza being Z1, A2, Z2, A1, note the reversal of the final repeat couplet thus completeing the circle. Unlike most of these strict repeating forms there is no set stanza count or need for the last stanza to repeat back to the first. This makes the Pantoum ideal for narratives that demand repetition or emphasis. Here is a wonderful example by Silverthorn who reverses:
The final alternative closure is to use a new couplet E1. E2. This would be extremely useful in the Free Pantoum version. |
Pantoum Posts
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Maryse AchongMy ‘mea culpas’ echo in my mind, They reach the ear of God who sits on high, He is a God of Love ,Forgiving, Kind, I trust He listens to my mournful cry. They reach the ear of God who sits on high, My laments and my self inflicted blame, I trust He listens to my mournful cry, I know He hears me when I call His name. My laments and my self inflicted blame, For all the things I’ve done or did not do, I know He hears me when I call His name And in my heart He answers "I love you". Despite the things I’ve done or did not do, He is a God of Love, Forgiving, Kind, And in my heart he answers "I love you", As ‘mea culpas’ echo in my mind. ----- Collateral Damage She’d known a world of warmth and love, Cocooned within her family, Now with an unexpected shove, She faced a harsh reality. Cocooned within her family, She’d never found herself alone, She faced a harsh reality, The day the bombs came raining down. She’d never found herself alone, Now burning rage within her stirs, The day the bombs came raining down, She swears that vengeance will be hers. Now burning rage within her stirs, Her mother, father, brother dead , She swears that vengeance will be hers, Next time she’ll take the lives instead. Her mother, father, brother dead, Enraged, bereaved, she feels forlorn, Next time she’ll take the lives instead; Another insurgent is born. Enraged, bereaved, she feels forlorn, Now with an unexpected shove Another insurgent is born: She’d known a world of warmth and love. ----- Converging Paths We had walked different roads, my love and I, Our life’s experiences had been distinct, We never understood the how and why Our paths converged, our lives were interlinked. Our life’s experiences had been distinct, This was a chance encounter ‘long the way, Our paths converged, our lives were interlinked, That’s how it is sometimes, the experts say. This was a chance encounter ‘long the way, And yet we paused, to listen and to share, That’s how it is sometimes the experts say And so we ended up being a pair. And yet we paused to listen and to share, It seemed to be the natural thing to do, And so we ended up being a pair, We had been blessed, at least that much we knew. It seemed to be the natural thing to do, But sometimes paths merge and then fork again, We had been blessed, at least that much we knew, In retrospect it was well worth the pain. But sometimes paths merge and then fork again, And we are left bewildered, angry, lost In retrospect it was well worth the pain, Though at the time it seemed too high a cost. And I was left bewildered, angry, lost, I never understood the how and why, I felt that we had paid too high a cost, When we walked different roads, my love and I . ----- Emancipation Day Emancipation Day, we celebrate The freeing of the slaves in our land , Now everybody can participate, All the festivities have been well planned. The freeing of the slaves in our land A time of bitter conflict and unrest; All the festivities have been well planned. No more will any voices be suppressed. A time of bitter conflict and unrest, Harsh actions were the order of the day ; No more will any voices be suppressed, And everyone’s entitled to their say, Harsh actions were the order of the day; Now everybody can participate , And everyone’s entitled to their say , Emancipation Day, we celebrate. ----- For Joel A precious little fighter from the start, I watched you struggle just to stay alive, As you lay incubator bound for days, But I knew deep inside you would survive. I watched you struggle just to stay alive, With monitors and tubes hooked everywhere, But I knew deep inside you would survive, Although it broke my heart to see you there. With monitors and tubes hooked everywhere, I saw you squirm, protesting when in pain, Although it broke my heart to see you there, I knew before long you’d be well again. I saw you squirm protesting when in pain As you lay incubator bound for days I knew before long you’d be well again A precious little fighter from the start. ----- For Justin I fell in love the first time that we met, I felt my heart would burst it was so full, Just one look and I was captivated I’ve never known such a tremendous pull. I felt my heart would burst it was so full, My life was changed forever on that day I’ve never known such a tremendous pull My feelings then no mere words could convey. My life was changed forever on that day I saw your little face , your eyes shut tight, My feelings then no mere words could convey I held you in my arms night after night. I saw your little face , your eyes shut tight, Just one look and I was captivated, I held you in my arms night after night I fell in love the first time that we met. ----- For Megan My father had died just one week before, When she arrived quietly without fuss, Her coming made our flagging spirits soar, She was a source to joy to all of us, When she arrived quietly without fuss, In the midst of our grief and sadness, She was a source of joy to all of us, Making us smile and restoring gladness. In the midst of our grief and sadness, This little one had brought us renewed hope, Making us smile and restoring gladness , She made it easier for us to cope. This little one had brought us renewed hope, Her coming made our flagging spirits soar, She made it easier for us to cope; My father had died just one week before. ----- For Wyatt He came to us one sunny August day, My parents third grandchild, another boy, We were enthralled, another one to love, My younger brother beamed with obvious joy. My parents’ third grandchild, another boy, His mother’s ‘sona’ treasured piece of gold, My younger brother beamed with obvious joy, We welcomed this new bundle to the fold. His mother’s ‘sona’, treasured piece of gold, A newborn baby in our home once more We welcomed this new bundle to the fold As we counted our blessings by the score. A newborn baby in our home once more We were enthralled, another one to love As we counted our blessings by the score. He came to us one sunny August day. ----- Late Arrival He came long after he was due, His mother’s little ‘blue eyed boy It seemed that he already knew He was his father’s pride and joy. His mother’s little ‘blue eyed boy ’ This tiny perfect little man, He was his father’s pride and joy This new addition to the clan. This tiny perfect little man, With knowing eyes that look around, This new addition to the clan Has stirred up feelings so profound. With knowing eyes that look around It seemed that he already knew; This new addition to the clan, He came long after he was due. ----- Looking Back The weeks turn into months, the months to years, It seems just yesterday I was a teen, Poised on the brink of life, with hopes and fears So many things have happened in between, It seems just yesterday I was a teen, The world before me like an unread book, So many things have happened in between, I turn the pages now to have a look. The world before me like an unread book, I thought that life would be a dream come true, I turn the pages now to have a look, The things I know now I wish then I knew. I thought that life would be a dream come true, A fantasy, I came to realize, The things I know now I wish then I knew, Though in due course I opened up my eyes. A fantasy I came to realize Life does not march according to our plan, Though in due course I opened up my eyes, The ways of God are not the ways of man. Life does not march according to our plan, We have to learn to bend or else we break, The ways of God are not the ways of man, I know He gives no more than we can take. We have to learn to bend or else we break, To celebrate our joy, withstand the pain, I know He gives no more than we can take, Thats how we learn to love and laugh again. To celebrate our joys, withstand the pain, Poised on the brink of life with hopes and fears, That’s how we learn to love and laugh again; The weeks turn into months, the months to years. ----- My Pantoum How to write this poetry Intricate I must admit Not sure how this will turn out But I’ll have a go at it. Intricate I must admit Flowing lines that come and go But I’ll have a go at it How else will I ever know. Flowing lines that come and go, With examples as my guide, How else will I ever know If I haven’t even tried. With examples as my guide Not sure how this will turn out If I haven’t even tried How to write this poetry. ----- Smooth Sailing We oft take the path of least resistance, Choosing to switch our auto pilots on, We cruise through life, really an existence, No battles to be lost, or to be won. Choosing to switch our auto pilots on, We take the easy path, go with the flow, No battles to be lost or to be won, We’re merely spectators in life’s great show. We take the easy path, go with the flow Our only concern not to ‘rock the boat’ We’re merely spectators in life’s great show, Content to drift along, once we’re afloat. Our only concern not to’ rock the boat’, We ignore other paths along the way, Content to drift along once we’re afloat, No challenges to meet, dragons to slay. We ignore other paths along the way, Forgoing chances we won’t see again No challenges to meet, dragons to slay, We lose much more than we will ever gain. Forgoing chances we won’t see again, We cruise through life, really an existence, We lose much more than we will ever gain, When we take the path of least resistance. back to list |
Kathy AndersonIt comes to you on lifes shores The way roses adore opening for sun, Irresistable warmth and light is more An ocean beckoning your feet, go, run. Roses always adore blooming in the sun No matter where it's reflections arise, Ocean waves lap at limbs that run To meet their cooling embrace in guise. It matters not how images arise, Echo of souls, patches of snow, moons glow With met arms calming heat, thus guised Provide longing eyes with hearts now known. Souls echo angels in snow, purely glow, Charmed to know, invoked in bee's wings To find the friendly vine bloomed below Moonlight, sunshine, and there they sing, Charmed to know, invoked in bee's wings Irresistable warmth and light in more Celestial lights that make you wake up, to sing Of love that comes to you on lifes appealing shores. ----- Victim of The Source What sorcery affected her this way Like a victiim of an unseen black spell Made bohemian as a ship, near quayed, Having sailed lonely waves of farewell swells. Like a victim of an unseen black spell, Her sailing dreams quayed in dry dock, Having sailed lonely waves of farewell swells, Her heart hypnotized by loves luck. Her sailiing dreams quayed in dry dock, No more will to try the last key, Her heart hypnotized by loves luck, A lock on treasure none dared see. No more will to try the last key Since it was lost under ships aft, A lock on treasure none dared see, An ocean sway, a spell of craft. What sorcery affected her this way Was a swell of affection'd mind Made bohemian as a ship near quayed, To be released by touching dulcet winds. back to list |
Gloria CarpenterWhen eyes were open, she was born With trusting gaze, so clear and deep Her innocence was often torn From far inside where children sleep With trusting gaze, so clear and deep She leaves her heart in others care From far inside where children sleep How long to learn that life’s unfair She leaves her heart in others care How can she know what life will bring How long to learn that life’s unfair The world is full of suffering How can she know what life will bring She does not know what people hide The world is full of suffering Now she has joined the world outside She does not know what people hide When others lie to tempt her fate Now she has joined the world outside Defenseless as untended bait When others lie to tempt her fate She does believe, for she is true Defenseless as untended bait What will she learn before life’s through She does believe, for she is true She wonders why there is such fear What will she learn before life’s through Why does not truth and love appear She wonders why there is such fear So many hearts are shattered still Why does not truth and love appear With dream-filled wishes for goodwill So many hearts are shattered still She hopes that love will soon begin With dream-filled wishes for goodwill Her heart still glows from deep within She hopes that love will soon begin To show the world how it can be Her heart still glows from deep within She found the power to be free To show the world how it can be Her innocence was often torn She found the power to be free When eyes were open, she was born back to list |
Lorraine DafneyYoung men will fight somewhere Where blood has shed before As one pure rose grows fair And men prepare for war Where blood has shed before It still brings tears of grief And men prepare for war It takes their life like a thief It still brings tears of grief As lonely sweethearts watch sunsets It takes their life like a thief Who march in synchronized steps As lonely sweethearts watch sunsets From young and innocent boys Who march in synchronized steps It randomly destroys From young and innocent boys It takes their brave souls It randomly destroys One by one they pay the ultimate toll It takes their brave souls As one pure rose grows fair One by one they pay the ultimate toll Young men will fight somewhere back to list |
Kevin McKinneyThe lanes I trolled were always banked in clouds; Swells rolled away before me in the haze; I gimbaled 'round the world fast in my shrouds, 'Need of a spark to set my heart ablaze. Steep hills resolved before me in the haze; Had Avalon arisen from the mist? I grounded on her shores, my mind ablaze, And struggled to believe she might exist. If Avalon had risen from that mist, Whose will commanded thus, I could not tell; Still struggling to believe she could exist, I nonetheless drank deeply at her well. What spells were working there I could not tell; How all there flowing tasted honey sweet; Nor how a board appeared near to the well; All fancy, filled with fruit and bread and meat. A voice as clear as birdsong and as sweet, Invited me to take up residence; To have my fill of fruit and bread and meat, And leave my worldly cares to happenstance. Invited me to take up residence, And to commune in perpetuity; But dare I trust myself to happenstance Without knowing what country this might be? How so, commune in perpetuity In this, the island known as Avalon? I wondered of the voice how this might be; Would next we slip beneath the waves and gone? But laughing, no, this is not Avalon! Tell us; how long were you adrift at sea? No island this, and never shall be gone This mystic land of lasting constancy! I told of all my life adrift at sea, While never in one place for very long; I asked the nature of this constancy; No answer was forthcoming but a song; Though never in one place for very long, You never truely travel very far; So all your deepest questions but a song; How do some people not know where they are? And lo, these hadn't traveled very far; All hand-in-hand about me in a ring And chanting about knowing where we are; A daisy chain of children circling. They sang and danced about me in a ring, And prized me of the lore of Tir na nOg; Made to unearth me by their circling, As if they'd found me buried in a bog. In this unchanging land of Tir na nOg, It's always now; there's no uncertainty; And though our dreams were buried in a bog, They are preserved for all posterity. It's always now? Yes! No uncertainty! I dwelt there for a year one afternoon, And so reserve for all posterity, This standing invitation to commune. The trolling lanes have been absolved of clouds; I run before the wind, my heart ablaze; I gimbal 'round this world all free of shrouds; Content to count my blessings, and my days. back to list |
Chronic Mollyletting some things slip away things I said but never meant holding some things very near idle moments well misspent things I said but never meant dreams I had in days of old idle moments well misspent secrets kept and never told dreams I had in days of old rummage sale of memories secrets kept and never told sorting through my fantasies rummage sale of memories holding some things very near sorting through my fantasies letting some things slip away back to list |
Spudmick MurphyI sent my child into yonder meadow, my prayers laid upon him by trembling lips. An angst-filled moment infused with sorrow, ruing this challenge writ into life's script. A soft southern breeze lent balm to my lips, while summer's sun embraced me with solace. Still worry persisted to lord my script; my steps circling paths, driven and restless. Was the meadow tending care and solace as my child ran through its grass and flowers? Was it impatient, or even restless to have twilight evict these pilgrim hours? Where was my child in the grass and flowers? Perhaps rescuing crickets from their toil? Was he caching treasures for later hours, before sleep could visit and dreams could boil? I rubbed my forehead to temper thoughts' toil, as a young child's echo breached the soft breeze. And in the white halo made by sun's boil, my son raced forward, calling out to me. Breathless, soiled, running fast as the breeze, his joy-drenched face erased worry's sorrow. His litany of finds made without me, were seeds of faith from a mother's meadow. ----- Obsessive Reflections In lonely hours, I imagine I know you intimately. And like Rembrandt or Henri, I arrange my tools and set to paint differing views of your traits and shades of eccentricity. I pretend I have the eyes of Rembrandt or Henri, while posing memory's words as models; your traits' textures and shades of eccentricity borrowed from spoken blends of verbs and vowels, I've remembered. Posed as my models, your words provide vision to my eager hands; your spoken blend of verbs and vowels guiding my brushstrokes to submit to their command. The art of your words feeding vision to my hands; a colorful prosody defining the magma of your soul. My brushstrokes servile to their command; eagerly painting your godliness, to extol the man gifted with rich magma and fertile soul. For through my paintings, each with a differing view, your godliness will speak. A gallery meant to extol a hungry heart that saw and knew the colored prosody of you. back to list |
Ryter RoethicleI’m comforted only by this semi darkness As hypnotic flickering candles shine How could my life become such a mess? Sitting here alone drinking my wine. Hypnotic flickering candles shine As I sit here I feel music flow over me Sitting here alone drinking my wine. Silently remembering what life used to be As I sit here I feel music flow over me Reminiscing about those midnight kisses Silently remembering what life used to be The mountain of love became the deepest abyss Reminiscing about those midnight kisses Is fantasy just another world of lies? The mountain of love became the deepest abyss What is laughter but the start of sighs? Is fantasy just another world of lies Can we truly love in this crazy world? What is laughter but the start of sighs Sighs and tears as truth is unfurled. Can we truly love in this crazy world? I tried to talk to you and make amends Sighs and tears as truth is unfurled. But you won’t talk, so how can we be friends? I tried to talk to you and make amends How could my life become such a mess But you won’t talk, so how can we be friends? I’m comforted only by this semi darkness ----- The Crow The final sound before you die You hear the cawing of a Crow. In the tree near where you lie Calling you down below You hear the cawing of a Crow. Its Satan's welcoming you Calling you down below The Crow is shouting out Halloo! Its Satan's welcoming you Its Heaven saying goodbye The Crow is shouting out Halloo! Hear the sounds as you die Its Heaven saying goodbye See it sitting above your door. Hear the sounds as you die Welcomes you to Hell with its caw See it sitting above your door. It's stringent voice, it's loud halloo Welcomes you to Hell with its caw You see the pit, what can you do? It's stringent voice, it's loud halloo Dragging you closer to the hole You see the pit, what can you do? Feel Hell pulling on your soul. Dragging you closer to the hole It’s sulphurous reeking Stygian smell Feel Hell pulling on your soul. Guided by this bird from hell It’s sulphurous reeking Stygian smell In the tree near where you lie Guided by this bird from hell The final sound before you die. ----- To Be With Eagles Tonight we sought to be with eagles souls have become like a passing birds’, soaring beneath the clouded castles as in silent spirals climbs ever upwards. Souls have become like a passing birds’, that on seeing another might also enjoy, as in silent spirals climbs ever upwards, this mortal madness we would destroy. That on seeing another might also enjoy, this does in turn create its own confusion. This mortal madness we would destroy. to enjoy this ultimate heavenly fusion. This does in turn create its own confusion are we prepared to forsake everything to enjoy this ultimate heavenly fusion, with time to share and with time to sing? Are we prepared to forsake everything soaring beneath the clouded castles with time to share and with time to sing? Tonight we sought to be with eagles! ----- Zeb He is alone in a city of millions they ignore that fact he is there at all he does not meet with their expectations and so he is faced with a sea of walls. They ignore that fact he is there at all yet he is alone with so many around and so he is faced with a sea of walls. The drone of their voices a grating sound. Yet he is alone with so many around with no solace for his troubled soul. The drone of their voices a grating sound his habit seeks only to fill the hole. With no solace for his troubled soul, in ignorance it is not that, which he seeks. His habit seeks only to fill the hole, and he feels solace is only for the weak. In ignorance it is not that, which he seeks. he does not meet with their expectations and he feels solace is only for the weak. He is alone in a city of millions back to list |
Trewir WintlekThoughts of hopes and some regrets, I’ve moved from here to there. Songs played a melody of love, songs never will I forget. I’ve been lonely when arms were bare. I’ve moved from here to there. I’ve shed some tears from painful deceit. I’ve been lonely when arms were bare. Dreams and wishes keep me far from defeat. I’ve shed some tears from painful deceit. Time faded away past deaths sorrows. Dreams and wishes keep me far from defeat. I keep praying for more thrilling tomorrows. Time faded away past deaths sorrows. The sweetest songs will always glide through. I keep praying for more thrilling tomorrows. In my mind and heart I have felt truth so true. The sweetest songs will always glide through. Songs played a melody of love, songs never will I forget. In my mind and heart I have felt truth so true. ~Thoughts of hopes and some regrets~ ----- Your Time Your time has meant alot for the love only you can give You have always been sought You will always be here to survive For the love only you can give A place to met, a special time You will always be here to survive There will always be time for a Rhyme A place to met, a special time in times of bitterness or love we face There will always be time for a Rhyme Many times and many places Proud yet, humble you seem to be You have always been sought For the love and kindness we see Your time has meant alot back to list |
Gloria CarpenterTerry ~ 9 til noon ~ noon til 3 ~ 3 til~ I’ve booked you in at 9 o’clock You’ll find a sign upon the door It’s round the back, walk in, don’t knock And come up to the second floor You’ll find a sign upon the door Be footloose, but know where to go And come up to the second floor To find the place where minds can blow Be footloose, but know where to go And never mind your credit card To find the place where minds can blow Just be relaxed, it’s not that hard It’s round the back, walk in, don’t knock I’ve booked you in at 9 o’clock Willow ~ Varnishing Point You’ve never had a pedicure? I think the time has come to book! Meandering o’er dale and moor Must give your toes a funny look. I think the time has come to book Enchanted forests underfoot Must give your toes a funny look No matter where yourself you put Enchanted forests underfoot Or in a churchyard on a rock No matter where yourself you put You should release your sole from sock Meandering o’er dale and moor ~ It’s time you had a pedicure! Maryse ~ Rainbow Bubbles Ah ha Maryse, your own foot spa To soak the tiredness away So you can write some more, hurrah! Relaxing as the bubbles play To soak the tiredness away A dash of peppermint or two Relaxing as the bubbles play Releasing cares, no longer blue A dash of peppermint or two Or citrus essence, maybe lime Releasing cares, no longer blue A soothing rainbow anytime So you can write some more, hurrah! Ah ha Maryse, your own foot spa! Chronic Molly ~ Great Scott Oh Chronic Molly, oh, Great Scott I guess I’d say, to give relief Eroticism this is not But then again, what’s your belief? I guess I’d say, to give relief Massaging feet relaxes nerves Eroticism this is not Unless you’re into touching curves Massaging feet relaxes nerves For some it may be faintly feared Unless you’re into touching curves And then it’s anything but weird! Eroticism, is this not? Oh Chronic Molly! Oh, Great Scott! ----- Now *Time is what keeps the light from reaching us... Meister Eckhart ( 1260-1328 ) Time is what keeps the light from reaching us.* An inner state of peace brings joy of being. Through timelessness, pure essence knows its bliss. In stillness, flowing energy is freeing. An inner state of peace brings joy of being, awareness in the present, living’s gift. In stillness, flowing energy is freeing, awakening in spirit, giving lift. Awareness in the present, living’s gift, as oneness radiates from deep within, awakening in spirit, giving lift. Eternal cycles end where they begin. Through timelessness, pure essence knows its bliss. Time is what keeps the light from reaching us. back to list |
Ryter RoethicleAgain and again, I kiss your lips Knowing you can no longer feel me Nor feel the touch of my fingertips But I remember what used to be Knowing you can no longer feel me No longer able to feel your heat But I remember what used to be How strong our hearts used to beat. No longer can I feel your heat For fate has made us part How strong our hearts used to beat. Yet I know I can feel your heart. For fate has made us part Yet I know I can feel your heart. Over and Over Over and over, I hear you Knowing you can never see me Nor speak of love without a shew Recalling weakness didn't flee Knowing you can never hear me Not able to communicate Recalling weakness didn't flee So much time passed, each time I'd wait Not able to communicate For all the words that we then shared So much time passed, each time I'd wait Propriety dashed hope of care For all the words that we then shared Propriety dashed hope of care. Kathy Anderson's response ----- Claire de Lune The moonlight shines on singing waters a chorus repeated by humming stones a composition of competing meters that brings peace to my stressed bones. A chorus repeated by humming stones under the light of a strawberry moon that brings peace to my stressed bones, it’s not hard for a soul to become attuned. Under the light of a strawberry moon two lovers watch falling under its spell. It’s not hard for a soul to become attuned, As older lovers know only too well. The moonlight shines on singing waters a composition of competing meters. ----- Foggy Paths The air is still, with no sound to tell the way, and a poor mortal stumbles in the mist of self survival that in time can only betray and wondering why, and the worth to exist. There is no beginning or end to this mist and the only escape is by way of dreams that shows of an idyllic way to exist so the mind conceives various schemes. Is it wrong to believe in these dreams and cut away the past with a surgeons knife trying to alter those damaging schemes, or just survive and live a mindless life? The air is still, with no sound to tell the way, does one need survive and live a mindless life? ----- Jungle How much freer is the Jungle of Reality At home amongst the hardwood trees? I feel the energy seeping back into me In this lush shelter, I can do as I please. At home amongst the hardwood trees. Civilisation has not left it’s bitter scar In this lush shelter, I can do as I please Its here I will build my final gunyah Civilisation has not left it’s bitter scar The wounds are in the jungle of my mind Its here I will build my final gunyah Here I will rest till eternal peace I find. The wounds are in the jungle of my mind How much freer is the Jungle of Reality? ----- Prisoner Like a prisoner you have me bound to you but not with chains of hard blue steel, or counting days and weeks till freedoms due, and there are no prison bars, my hands to feel There are no chains of hard blue steel, or fear of breakout or escape, no strike or coup and there are no prison bars, my hands to feel I'll be a model prisoner, a trustee, not go askew No fear of breakout or escape, no strike or coup I have a wound from cupid’s dart that will not heal I'll be a model prisoner, a trustee, not go askew my life is sealed by chance, with just one deal Like a prisoner you have me bound to you My life is sealed by chance, with just one deal ----- Writers block My rhymes don’t have that ring and my metre seems to chatter my concentration doesn’t have that zing and all my words just seem like clatter and my metre seems to chatter imagery is faded like watercolours in the rain and all my words just seem like clatter everything is meaningless, every line’s a strain. imagery is faded like watercolours in the rain staring blankly at the screen until I want to shout everything is meaningless, every line’s a strain I don’t know what to say and nothing will come out. I don’t know what to say and nothing will come out staring blankly at the screen until I want to shout. back to list |
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