Basically the term Septet means any seven line poem and while specific Septet forms are discussed,
in their own place in the Septet section, this challenge will include any form that has seven lines and is not a specific septet,
including Blank Verse, and Free Verse or possibly include the interior use of rhyme.
The poem below whilst neither rhyming, nor blank verse shows a disciplined use of meter:
Septet Challenge Replies
Please 'heal our land,' this is the prayer I say
For though we honour this Republic Day
We really have small cause to celebrate
As we watch crime, corruption escalate.
I feel the pain, I hear my homeland groan,
But I will not abandon her you see
I have a lifelong pact with T&T.
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Come play within my garden, pleasures to behold
Amidst the pretty daisies, and buttercups of gold,
Faeries in the green grass, within their faerie ring,
And Elvins come and push me, high up upon my swing,
In my wondrous little world, of dreams and fantasy,
I wade, amidst a maze of leaves `neath oaken trees,
And fly with the butterflies, that flutter in the breeze.
Come play within my garden, of mystical powers
The magic of herbs, balm, roots, leaves and flowers.
Shall be with you, thro` a rustic, archway of roses,
We shall skip there, amidst a bed of violet posies,
To play in the sun, savouring sweet scents within,
Weaving buttercup, and clover, true friendship chains.
Past times we now recall, when our fantasy reigns
Come Autumns carpet of crimson and gold
Shed thy leaves, bright colours to behold,
Thou hath withered and fallen to the ground,
A regal red carpet, strong winds blew down.
Lady Autumn curtseys, for her first debut,
She haunts the woodlands, now full of grace,
A sceptre of death with a beautiful face.
Summer hath adorned, the dense woodland green
Autumn doth boast, natures variegated scene,
An artists brush, with inspiration and flair
Captures the moment with precision and care.
A mystical autumn, in this season of mists,
As darkness ascends, changing all that s bright,
Leading the woodlands deep, towards the night.
The Maiden & The Unicorn. I
Deep in a forest, where fantasies reign
Way back in the midst of medieval times,
There dwelt a maiden, with hair of gold,
And her father was king of the realms,
Her beauty known throughout the lands,
But her only love was a mythical beast,
That only she, being a virgin, could tame.
A mythical Unicorn, roamed the earth
This beast of beauty with untold grace,
And finest coat, of the purest of white,
But alas! was hunted, for his magical horn,
Once believed to have medicinal powers,
And only this virgin could tame the beast
So they used her, for the beast to lure.
One stormy day, in this time of great myths
Deep in the heart, of the forest clearing,
In the wind, and the rain, and mystical mist
, Sped a magnificent white, tamed Unicorn
With the virgin maiden, astride his back,
Leaping the arch of a mystic rainbow,
Carrying her far, beyond the azure skies.
The Maiden & The Unicorn. II
Oh how they sped, through starlit skies,
Past whirl wind holes, to the milky way,
Breath of foam, from his nostrils blew,
He paced the universe, to reach their goal,
Through comets, fire and shooting stars.
In another galaxy, to a world unknown
To planet Auriga, where Unicorns roam.
The beautiful maiden held tight his mane,
She entered his world of myth and lore.
Where Unicorns dwell in a land of love,
Wild and free, in their magical fantasy,
Mystic moons surround the vast domain,
As cool rivers flow with running water,
In planet Auriga, the Unicorns home.
She knew in her heart that she did belong,
To this land of love and peace within.
Far from her fathers hunters of horn.
She remained on the planet Auriga
But when Earths clouds float gently by
You can pick out shapes within your eyes,
She`s there on the back of her Unicorn.
Oh great spirit of the wind come blow,
The sadness, in our tribes hearts grow,
Our land, we called home is no more.
Silenced, are the drum beats of lore,
No more hunts for buffalo in the fall,
Harken, Takuskanskan and maybe then,
You will hear our drum beats loud again
Oh great spirit of the wind come blow,
Across our rivers with rapids that flow,
Over black hills and wide open plains,
Help us to salvage what ever remains,
Of Pride and respect for our ancestors,
HarkenTakuskanskan, and maybe then,
You will hear our buffalo return again.
Oh Great spirit of the wind come blow,
Over this land, in a blanket of snow,
Desolate now, but for wild wolves cries
With their hungry, spiritual., amber eyes.
And thickened coat against bitter cold,
Watch Takuskanskan, and maybe then.
You will see our Tribes return once again.
Uno Momento in Tempo
Give unto me all the bright star above,
That I may in return, share with my love,
Place in my hand, a spray of white heather
Luck be you with us, for now and forever
We shall rejoice with both song, and laughter
Grant me a wish. we know will come true
If you love me too, I shall also love you.
Underneath the spread of the Willow tree,
I was waiting for you, as you were for me
Magical moments, for true lovers divine
Mirrored in your eyes, as they were in mine
That beautiful moment in time stood still,
Feelings sublime, were all what they seemed,
Which love had replaced, instead of a dream.
Magyk moments that woodbines entwine.
Around honesuckle sweet, and trumpet vine,
An enchanted scene from a mystical lore,
On this woodlands dark and earthy floor.
Where the clear crystal dewdrops meet,
Tall leafy trees with low hanging bowers
Hiding Elves, and their mystical powers.
Thorny brambles, bearing, soft sweet fruits
Thro` tangled, creeping, nurtured roots,
Sun projects through the branches above,
Beaming down, on a pair of white doves,
As wood nymphs dance softly on loam,
The Fox and deer, stand in rigid stance,
Acorns drop to the ground, in avalanche.
Woodlanders, thriving in natures care,
Wild life, sprites, and dryads, to share,
Their magyk spells and mystical harmony,
Of faeries dust, lore, and pure fantasy,
In the midst a spiritual, symbolic,forest
Bees collecting nectar for their honey comb,
Deep in heart of the woodlanders home.
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The wind, the rain, the snow and sunshine
Have all kissed the garden I call mine
I swear I hear the roses whispers
Since they and I have become sisters
I greet all that grows each day with love
I tend to each with worn gardening gloves
Autumn's tapestry makes it divine
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I close my eyes to sleep and find your kiss,
that waits for me in lands of Morpheus
to take my hand and guide my heart to bliss,
my senses 'neath your shadow of Venus,
un-opened roses meet as pulses miss,
whilst love's sweet hunger rages between us,
the limbo state of dreams remains our tryst.
I feel your breathing caress o'er my soul,
as words brushed your lips, float in my head,
my music yours, no more mine to control,
as I recall with joy the words you said.
I could not escape, love has no parole,
in your perfection I'm bound by heart's thread,
my Venus in jeans, it's you I extol.
In peaceful waters where the lilies dwell
a path of stone shall lead my soul to Zen,
amid the cherry blossom linger thoughts
recalling her embrace around my heart.
Her love my passion's first and last resort,
that makes me lie beside her once again,
and drown in her waters I know so well.
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Your voice is an echo of forgotten dreams
Your scent a lingering memory in a crowd
Oft forgotten scenes brought quickly to mind
By words or little quirks of fate that tear them out
And I am forced to relive them and feel the pain
As the pleasure of those times are ripped away
To be replaced by the mundane and the absence.
Unlike a junkie, my monkey cannot be fixed
There is no white powder that can be my cure
I need reality and your presence that is all.
Over time and space we have shared our lives
And have given our bodies drop by drop.
Your face a silent halo surrounds your eyes
Held in my hand loosely twined in hair.
Smiling as I kiss your brow in reverence
And regret the loss of you who are so close
Your voice is the bell ringing within you.
That tells you I am the wind you remember
That rises in the plains, across lives yet to be born,
Blowing away footprints that dissolve
Like time's dust dispersed in the moistened air.
When you look into the Jacaranda see the bloom
Its purple blue flowers speak only of us
Of time and time again spent only in a bower
Where truth and love can live forever.
We are dispersed in the moistened air
Creating an atmosphere of love together
We have become the blood that warms us.
Have we not shared blood and become one
And become the salt where lips meet the sea.
Creating our thirst yet unsatiated wanting more.
We meet in life as the dream we have created,
Curiosity in our wanderings though our world
Is our world a dream and is our love a reality
Is there madness across lonely oceans?
Although I am gone I'm always watching,
I look not for deceit in your panting breaths,
What's the point? You are no longer mine.
I look not at your once smooth skin,
With those lines of laughter, or is it pain?
Nor do I look at your soft hair, and style,
A little different now, and wasn't it brown.
I look as you stand naked before the mirror
A little more closely now, but still beautiful.
Are you remembering how I used to look at you,
When your eyes would sparkle and I'd see
That look of desire there and the invitation?
But that look has not been there for a while
Instead I hear only that soft wistful sigh.
I look as you rearrange your hair again
And him watching, impassive, almost bored.
Someone new sleeps and shares your bed.
In the mirrors cold reflection,
You see your former lover's urn
And hear our children play outside
It all comes back when you touch your skin.
Autumn evokes her scenes and melodies
Where colours are enhanced in clearer skies.
Looking around we see natures casualties,
Lying strewn across still green coloured lawns
The green may stay and later from time to time
Reflect nature's mood and echo a silver veneer
Or be hidden for a while under a white blanket.
The casualties lie there like any other corpses
Gradually returning their gifts to mother Earth
Till all that's left is the skeletal frame.
That also will become part of the next generation
Where budding trees and plants scent out
Incognisant of past events and noble deeds
Til once again they have spread their seeds.
Just a Moment
Just a moment in time as the breeze hits
The willow tree moves her branches subtly
In graceful movements as she feels the wind.
She slowly moves as the wind strokes her
And gently touches him to move him deeper
Stroking his mind, willing him to keep him close
Teasing him, gentle kisses helps keep the breeze
The wind dances with the willow in gentle steps
As the dance continues he whisks the frail branches
His mood increases as he feels his heart strings pull
He whips her around torments her limbs, bites her soul
She sways to his movements, bending to his needs
Trying to caress his desires allowing his wishes
Till his passion decreases and he's at peace again.
As the winds passion dies he rests against her
His mood softened now, more of love than of lust.
Resting against his willow, calming and caressing her
And a lover's conversation starts between them
Such pillow talk if it were possible between them
As trembling leaves are kissed in Natures tryst
Whilst all we hear is whispering through her leaves
I remember those clear September nights
That memory is a rare and lovely theme
I find you also wandering within that dream
The garden wherein we played is the same
I wonder if like me you seek that memory
And reminisce on things you wish soon to be.
Cannot good memories have a future also?
Life is Music and Infinite
Like Red Riding Hood as she skips along
Bounding along the joyous paths playing.
Strings! Strings! A plethora of strings,
Growing deeper from violin to viola
The mellow cello and the deep bass.
Acoustic, squeaky fast fingers
Speeding through, lifting in joy.
See the figure over there!
The woodwind responding in theme
And he standing tall and engaged
His pipes sounding like stepping
Into the next grouping of banter.
He is leading the dancing
His cloven feet a staccato of beats.
The Violinist knows the whole truth
Her head lowers shyly as she plays past
Then as though with second thoughts
Turns to face her admirers and smiles
And with one last backwards glance
Boastful, unafraid plays with swaying hips.
A smile and with a quick spin she is away.
The conductor's frantic movements
Slow now to the peace of the adagio
The music moves forward with him
Like the breeze, that has run up hill
Out of breath almost, just a whisper,
With Lakeland scents, he has tasted
Eyes closed savouring the moment.
Nights Dark Wings
From my lofty heights way up on high
I can see all the whirling, and the twirling,
And the everlasting spinning of the stars.
Ever expanding the meaning of infinity.
I felt the whole explosion of the day
Watched admiringly silent as the sun sped
Across heaven towards another night.
The night's dark wings at last softly settle,
Easily placing itself, so it may look down
On the patchwork quilts laid out below
And the shadow of the night racing o'er
Softly blending with the lights appearing
Contrasting with the white scarred blackness
That in the day becomes the sea.
On the horizon the setting evening sun
Sends out its final bursts of reddening rays
As if it is announcing the night arrival
And in due time kissing the day farewell.
Making me realise how much like love it is
Your feathered kisses have gently touched me
And with my eyes open very slowly I ascend.
Quests: Questions and Answers
I have waited throughout eternity
For those moments when we shall meet
And somehow be together for a short while
That short while may be seen as eternity
And may be in fact only weeks or years
Seeming merely a flash in eternal times
With each rebirth a search to find you my love.
What if on our quests our ships should pass
Must we carry on our journey still searching
And from that moment spend forever probing?
Or like planes delayed whist waiting take-off
Be unable to fly, because of conditions ahead.
Will you wait for me - knowing I'm on my way
I ask, "Will impatience, or love rule the day?"
Now as I approach over the grey waters
Fate tells me not to have any fears
My journey will have ended for a short while
When my plans and dreams will be revealed
Then dreams will be reality and answers given
Now I have just one shorter journey to take
And it will be measured in strides not time.
In the window lies a once broken metaphor.
Shelves visible through the window shows
Various goods, tagged and ordered seriously,
Waiting for their owners' to return and pay.
Hoping the Iambs have been properly readjusted
Effusive that the old-grey, rhyme-headed old-man
Did his job, as a saviour to muses everywhere.
I avoid passing by that shop, especially at night
. Like the dentist's office, it waits until the pain grows
And that obsessive line triggers my mind again
Denying me sleep because of the frantic thoughts
That pounds around in my mind echoing fixated
Preventing the rational thought that I so desire
To lay and say in my humble verse tonight.
Eventually I must visit his shop and avail myself
Of wisdom and experience and an open mind.
The pages fairly glow as he enables the use
Of fresh iambs, blanks and other handy verse
Despite the chain store fashion we have a store
Where all our hopes become structured words
This type of place could never be replaced.
Now Autumn has turned her back to us
And once hot days and warm nights
Have returned to indifference at best.
Former lush green colours become drab
Or have turned to various shades of red
That will in turn become shades of brown
Ending as empty skeletons on a sodden floor.
Once considered cute, creatures rush around
Ignorant of human wishes because of their desire
To survive the imminent threats of winter
And mandatory sleep becomes a way of life
So there must be a store of needed food
That will be unavailable for many months
And now present feasts become a famine.
Similarly avian life will be seen in flocks
Flying eventually south towards the sun
Following routes established millennia ago
By prehistoric life and ignored by man
Who still had to learn to stand erect
And his pretentious descendants
Who selfishly seek to own the world.
Seven lines are all I have to speak my thoughts.
Shall I open up my heart and talk of my desire,
And like some others speak in meter and rhyme?
Or transcend all that, and speak of metaphysics
Going beyond words of love and spiritual things
And in becoming an abstract philosopher
Lose all sense of reality and things that truly work?
I still have seven lines to speak my thoughts
The day has almost reached noon, where is the sun?
The strong northern wind has not cleared the sky
Nor brought the heat that it is want to do.
The birds are absent, could be that they know
That only fools shall set forth in winds like this.
Rest assured there is no greater fool than man.
Zigzagging 2 Real Values
Everyone laughs at the same time
Some flicking ash like unwanted debris
From their cigarettes posed correctly
Posers in the alleged nuevo riche society
Pretenders stealing the gift of happiness
Pursuing only that which causes rapture
And ignoring things that have real value.
Sees us in rapture, with no complex things
Simple things like waking on a Saturday
Believing it's a weekday, but not Monday.
Not using speech as a means of hiding truth
Instead saying it how it is, it is not cowardice
Try if you can just to be pleasant today
Then tomorrow will see you a veteran of love
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Towards the end of Summer's hot, exhausting reign
Lady Autumn slips in sly and subtle- only a hint on the wind.
She tickles the clouds until they roll and gather
in afternoon rumbles of laughter, stirring the slumbering chill
Whispering with a wink, she bides her time, coy and poised.
Taking note, the leaves ripen with joy and begin
their preparation for the change of color guard.
On cue, Nature ushers her in, flowing with delicate boldness.
Trees tremble their anticipation, releasing tipsy leaves
that flitter awe and approval in the heady breeze
landing prostrate - an offer for her to etch her sage poetry
on their drying backs, for they are her prolific papers
The flurry of her quill radiates her thoughts and rhymes.
These playful sheets capture her insights for all to see.
Her secrets of life carpet the ground, gathering against fences
and are raked into tantalizing piles where children will jump
and bathe in her imagery - the whispers and magic they still hear.
They toss her thoughts into the air, scattering dappled puns
wisdom clinging in their hair- tickling down shirts.
They feel the quiet brush of her rhythm and lore
and drink in her leafy poems, both brief and deep.
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In the throes of a dream
The dream becomes fully real
So that reality is then the new ambition
For which scenes we are now immersed,
That immersion is in our waking thought
To think again about the play of days,
We play each day as if a prayer could save them all.
Heart in Burgundy
In deepest burgundy this pen is dipped
To swell the lines of a poet hearts blood,
No scrawl of pencil lead gray
Except whence comes the color of age
Upon a once tawny brown head,
For summers spent it's seeds all around
And Falls lillies now bend instead with lustrous crowns.
Let Me Breathe
Cattleya on my windowsill
That never yet bloomed in Spring,
I hum again with new hope of a dream
Which recalls itself in my eyes,
Because you can't disguise love's illness
For it plagues all seasons with new hopes,
So then my heart can breathe again.
Lines of Life
Late summers dress shows
How lines of life still grow brilliantly
On a perfectly lovely afternoon,
Though soon the eve of a season
Becomes the morning of the next,
Presenting different lines and shadows
Where once blooms danced in wedded bliss.
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