The Envelope Quintet is a natural progression of a four line poem to 5 lines. There are several ways this can be achieved and the
Sicilian Quintain is an excellent one.
There are two other ways one of them is simply by turning the middle couplet into a triplet, giving a rhyming scheme of; a,.b,.b, b, a.
There is no set meter, but Iambic Pentameter, or a ten syllable line is suggested.
Envelope Quintet Challenge Replies
Black brothers as we celebrate today,
I feel a sadness deep inside of me
For those who waged a war so valiantly
For rights you now abuse so casually;
You dishonour them in the greatest way.
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At stroke of midnight commences to play
plucked alone, in an old medieval square,
a most haunting tune with a saddened air,
angelical soft notes, of feeling, and with flair,
Oh ancient, celtic harp, of a bygone day.
Where is the bard, that plucked of the strings,
that played sweet refrains, both happy and sad,
who abandoned his harp, when times were bad
did he perish of age, or was he just a lad.
does he now play his harp, wearing angels wings.
The celtic harp, now stands there on its own,
a memory of olden times, thats never forgot,
when it plays at midnight, right on the dot.
plucked once before, in that very same spot,
each time, with that beautiful, haunting tone.
Oh I yearn to be held in your loving arms,
feeling the warmth from your body in mine,
when we snuggle real close, it feels just fine,
to savour such forbidden fruits divine.
infatuated by lovers endearing charms.
How may a loving like this be so wrong,
when it feels so beautiful deep inside,
what if we can never turn back the tide,
when what seemed so right, our feelings inside,
this love we possess may be ours life long.
Grandma's Wedding Gown
A long time ago when my grandma was wed,
they didn`t have much then, and times were bad,
she told us this tale,that made us feel sad,
appreciate, all of the things that we had,
made us take heed, of the words she said.
Both she, and grandad, fell deeply in love.
had the bans called, in church to be wed,
had to be cancelled, it had to be said,
for the only gown she possessed, was red,
she would be shamed, to the great Lord above.
This was the way of the old folk back then,
white was the colour, for a virgin bride,
and grandma would not ever lose her pride,
it was how she was raised, and felt inside.
and so the bans, were to be called again.
Not to be beaten, though money had none,
needle and thread, three weeks and a night,
made of satin and lace, from curtains of white
a beautiful gown, that fitted just right.
wedded in church, both their lives were as one.
The Love Of Misty
She is beautiful, faithful, loving and kind,
the most loyal, devoted and best of friends,
for her love, honour, and trust she defends
in return, affection and care she depends,
and another like her would be hard to find.
She is loved so dear, it would hurt to part,
a beautiful companion, she will always be,
her playful spirit, running wild, and free,
to rest by the shade of the willow tree.
blessed forever, for the good in her heart.
To arise in the morn` to a hazy blue sky,
birds sing sweetly, to welcome the new dawn,
and a doe, softly nuzzles her baby fawn,
as dew drops gently settle on the lawn.
flocks of geese in perfect formation fly .
The bay of a vixen, when her cubs are born
hidden in a den, of soft moss, and leaves,
in the swell of a refreshing gentle breeze,
hails the screech of an owl, under the eaves,
while mice forage, in fields of ripened corn.
My Secret Garden
I once wandered far, to be on my own,
A long time ago when I was a child,
I found a garden, that was left go wild,
`twas in an orchard and I was beguiled,
as I munched ripened apples, there alone.
I would return once again most every day,
`twas my secret place I yearned to be,
to find a perfect spot that suited me,
from the outside world I would be so free
my secret garden, where I had come to play.
It was there, I would sit and quietly peruse,
lost so deeply, in magical fantasy dreams
sailing paper boats in a puddle down stream
where inner imagination reigned supreme.
secret garden, where I returned to muse.
Summer Of Love
A summer love, that was, to be warmly true,
sweet kisses, and soft whispers in my ear,
the first time, that we both became near,
memories of that moment will always be dear,
as our love through that summer, then grew.
As time went by, it could only get stronger
until both of us found it hard to resist,
in the midst of a morning summer mist,
both together, in our most passionate bliss,
could then, not contain ouselves any longer.
Seasons may come, and the seasons will depart,
cold winters wind, with the deepest of snow,
autumns of colour we cherish and know,
Spring is loves season, when passion will grow,
but summer remains, most dear in our heart.
Walking On Air
I am walking on air, because you are near,
my dear, for you are now everything to me,
I see the love shine upon your face sincere,
to revere this love, knowing it will always be,
and for that smile, I wander near and far,
far across deserts and the deep blue seas.
I will be there for you, my love one fine day,
and pray one day soon, we both shall meet.
to greet with a loving hug, our special way,
this day when true lovers become discrete,
so sweet the taste of love that we display.
this day when we both walk on air complete.
When Love Runs Deep
Why did they feel, love had come to an end
the ending of love, of which bloomed so fair,
is it fair, broken hearts may not ever mend,
when in the end, true lovers really do care,
both shared the sorrow, like best of friends
for friends like lovers, mostly always share.
Would it be right, to say they were wrong,
wrong, to have broken hearts in this way,
and to say, that forever they both belong,
belonged to each other, forever and a day,
when one day on, their love was still strong,
not wrong, but closer in love, after the delay.
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As dusky clouds assemble evening's glow,
I want to fly beyond the stars tonight,
with you beside on love's inaugural flight,
to watch the world from darker sides of light
and feel the swathing silks of rainbows flow.
I'll wrap you in a comet's silver tail,
each night your smile would be my milky way,
by day our love a warming sunny ray,
my celestial lover lights my day,
across the skies, we fly on lunar sail.
The final farewell hurts the most,
but always should be said clearly,
no room for close, even nearly
does not suffice. I pay dearly
for art, but words no longer cost.
A picture forms a thousand words,
but no image appears in letters,
I'm tired of being in fetters
restrained by form and post setters,
in ink I fly free with the birds
Our talking is done, my heart is dead,
the words you said let feelings die,
your love shattered, I say good-bye,
and walk away without a sigh,
my steps forever weighed with lead.
I wanted to hold you close to me,
to guide your path to better days,
instead you struck my soul sideways,
and left my mind a shadowed maze
released to fear and never free.
A vampire feeds on blood but you,
an emotional parasite,
you stole my will to stand and fight,
my soul weakened by demon's bite,
now walks alone with no value.
Teagan De Danaan
He came through luxuriant redwood trees Bamboo groves set among hills A temple half hidden in the green clouds Its entrance was a ruin
He came through luxuriant redwood trees
an old warrior with his tales to tell
with his mellowed voice like a chiming bell
as he sets the stage to cast ancient spell
mystery of ages on eastern breeze.
Bamboo groves set among hills
whispering as a warrior sighs
his eyes follow where the eagle flies
among the clouds and azure skies
as he ponders upon hunters skills.
A temple half hidden in the green clouds
offered sanctuary's peace to his heart
the bloody tears of war stained jambart
replaced by fine-spun words of poet's art
forming the vitality of vibrant shrouds.
Its entrance was a ruin
where warrior poet told his story
of the old world honour and glory
now revealed with tales of history
to the clans of Everliving kin
Upon the Mat
A gentle hum of rock -a -bye,
the thoughts that flow inside my mind,
relax they say, let go, unwind,
the words are there for you to find,
upon the mat, a silent sigh.
Inhale the world, let it mingle,
then breathing out, release the junk,
with closing eyes the mind sunk
to see another floating monk,
as aged limbs start to tingle.
And later thoughts shall jar to life,
as stabbing pains begin to creep,
between the smiling flowers, weep
as eyes open from peaceful sleep,
upon the mat, no words are rife.
So swap the pen for coffee pot,
rejuvenate an ancient heart,
then sneak upstairs to study art,
and leave the words where minds depart,
and pictures fill my vacant spot.
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It's something I did when I was alone,
Cognisant now but never repentant
I did nothing I was ashamed of
Aeroplanes and nudes, I would paint
To all intents, by my parents unknown.
I would sketch in a book with a pencil
Before I was taught to write in verse
And too young to know or care about love,
Everyone seemed older which was worse
And refused to allow me in their council.
My parents would leave me in charge
But I didn't go to bed when I said I would
In spite of threats of damage from above.
My use of crayons was well understood
And frustrations and desires would discharge
. Perhaps by that time I'd seen too much strife
And overheard too many conversations
Even then realising the hypocrisy of adults
My innocence belying awakening sensations,
My crayons released my feelings about life.
My many coloured crayons, my expression,
Noiseless always as my feelings were birthed
On cartridge paper solid enough to draw on
To hold my feelings, for what they were worth
And many distractions to earn their admiration.
Would you like to join me here in my recall?
Watching the world go by, sit here quick
Perhaps we can create our own thought pictures
Choose one of my crayons, here take your pick
But not the dark red it's my favourite of all.
Dancing To Loves Tune
Dancing to loves tune, spin and turn
Inside your heartbeat skips and pounds
There is no contest, no points to earn
Your eternal love forever resounds
And the fever of love causes you to burn.
Then whilst apart your innards churn.
For bodies touching in nightly rounds
For any music that brings your love back
To a sensuous tempo of loving sounds
With your lovers steps so quickly learnt.
Each night to loves dancing we return
Earthly bodies lie on silken grounds
We all win when dancing to loves tune.
In a ballroom fit for loving rounds
With souls locked in a heavenly sojourn.
A tear, when it comes runs slowly down your face,
A look, on your face when quietly you look at me,
The curve, of your lip when you smile from your heart,
One touch, from your hand helps me to finally see,
The feeling of reality I get with each embrace.
Una rottura, quando viene lentamente i funzionamenti gi¨ il vostro fronte,
Uno sguardo, sul vostro fronte quando lo esaminate tranquillamente,
La curva, del vostro labbro quando sorridete dal vostro cuore,
Un tocco, dalla vostra mano lo aiuta infine a vedere,
La sensibilitÓ della realtÓ che ottengo con ogni abbraccio.
The fire we made last night I see still glows
With time we'll prove it was only a start
Mere kindling that helped start a larger flame
And even though for a little while we must part
Will make our way alone through winters snow.
The fire we made last night will always glow
The embers caused an ever burning flame
But those in love need never fear or flee
Commitments made with kiss to life's game
To share and link our souls an eternal vow
The fire we made last night the Gods now know
Need only stir the coals with the fuel and see
How quickly the flames again so soon start
The flames will leap from love of thee and me
Always burn, although sometimes a dull red glow.
All creatures leave the nest this is a fact of life,
Well before maturity sets in, so they will learn.
Why do some humans cling to their to their brood
Treating them as if their whole life is of concern
And keep them weak protecting them from strife.
I hear you criticise me saying I am rude
It is a fact, that tempering requires white heat
And air conditioned protection provides naught
Then leaves them wanting much and incomplete
Leaving us wondering why the world is screwed.
Without morals and values all can be bought
Old fashioned ideas aren't politically correct
But bad manners and rudeness is over rife
I've been there, done that and now I can reflect
The future, wondering, what has this brought?
Kiss flavoured winds are in my thoughts
These thought and memories so easy I find
Memory giving flesh form in pastel strokes
And lips brushing skin, so easy in my mind
A heart surrendered makes love easily bought.
Winds off an ocean that whispers and calls
Thoughts matching heartbeats without any end
There is no blindness of night, not ever again
Embracing, sleeping whilst still making friends
Love forever sounding, echoing from walls.
Leaving the Toybox
The music being played is sad now,
Swiftly Kanga wipes away a little tear,
And even Wambi has a little sniffle.
She has gone away and they miss her,
Even toys have souls and feelings you know.
It began that first day they saw her with me
I knew they were also under her spell
But I didn't mind they had fallen for her.
Now this sad little band is just a shell
Each one lost, and sharing the misery.
The bright colours of the toybox
Look drab, lifeless and insignificant.
Eeore has found his tail in a corner
And just cast it away as unimportant
Owl is sad and speechless with shock.
An hour is too long without her concern
And days have far too many hours.
They must wait until cloth hearts can heal
But my heart does not have those powers
Will it heal if she should ever return?
Opening My Toybox
Silent tears are falling down my face
This place of solitude has so much around
Yet no-one would know just by the sound?
But finally I'm trying to mend my wound
There is no one to understand my place.
Opening my toybox after all this time
Those within saw my look and my shame,
They knew of my life, and was not to blame
. So I spoke with, Kanga and Wambi again,
Clearing memories covered in dust and grime.
The beings there were awake somehow
Uncared for, ignored, yet alive and warm.
Yes! aware and alive and still with form
Bringing back memory of a previous norm
We sat and talked and things are alright now.
Quest for Truth
Cover your eyes and really see things
The wind blowing the rain across the window
Sliding across the glass crashing on the frame
Looking now with the eyes your ears endow
Leave a feeling become aware what others bring.
Cover your eyes and really touch things
How empty a room is without love there,
And the fullness and warmth of one that has.
The feeling of touching someone who cares
The difference in life twixt winter and spring.
Cover your eyes and really hear things
The silence of a warm summer night
Mother Earth breathing, warm and content
The dripping of rain after a short shower
Creating puddles and all the rippling's.
Un Sogno (A Dream)
It is the last month of winter, but already I have
A desire for humming trees, and buzzing bees.
The buds of spring will be long gone by then:
But I'll feel the warmth of the evening breeze
And for three months, I'll be natures willing slave.
Vale (It is worth)
When we parted we knew that things were fine
Your lips are the only ones I want to know
Your taste, the one I will crave all my life.
Memories that will last through winter's snow
As I savour again our summer wine.
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The day was cursed and locked me far away,
People steepling my youth in a mass boneyard
Where only old books and faith can be starred,
An alter at the end of the curb, hard
Shadows my only crown, no pearl would stay.
Medicine can't create revolutions
From curled ribbons of time that reveal
The mind that lives in it's own time wheel,
Baptism with milk won't ever sure heal
Nor vowels and phrases used as potions.
Little Dark One
You came into the world a darkling bay
Whose dam was fleet as a misty deep dusk,
And who knew that you'd grow into a rusk
Of strength and speed, sire of unreckoned husk
So great, you left pastures greener, they say.
New Feelings Found
A cup of Darjeeling is fine fare,
To sweeten, just add a dash of love,
A drop of pure cream and a dove
Carrying scandalous messages from above
In blue skied ambiance, love's dare.
No finer sentiment is found
Than n a chest of the best black tea,
A cup of life presented in a filigree
Sip of delightful reverie,
A most lovely taste to tongue around.
How long it may be till the earth swallows
This body and its harbored mind,
I know not, but the peace of trees I find.
Must look for another forest, cave lined,
To keep the quiet till laid down below.
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