ROSARIAN SONNET FORMS

This form is a poet's delight as firstly it uses couplets. These are always a favourite with poets, and then it uses a link for those who like the use of refrains or French poetry.
Its creator Bruce Henderson, sets up the situation using two Quintains, the centre lines linking stanzas.
This gives a rhyme scheme of... a. a. b. c. c. .... d. d. b. e. e. The final quatrain which contains the closure or counter statement gives a choice of linking, and using couplets an envelope. The forms creator chose an envelope form.... f. g. g. f. as the closure in the following example.

Brave New World

A chilly breeze came through the Western sky,
As tumbled headlines scuffed an echoed sigh
Above deserted smiles and empty streets.
In faceless windows queries were withdrawn
From doubting where had all the people gone.
In ancient books a page was turned to dust
And language wrought with steel, bled into rust.
Yet, triumph lit from out these strange defeats
As flicking lamps spat out in sad dismay,
'no one did nothing to no one today!'
Academies unleashed a labelled pack
Of wizards whom lobotomised their Fates,
As lives were charmed to colour coded traits,
And time was spurned the grief of winding back.
In this one he uses the more conventional f. g. f. g.

Late Musings

As the lonely hours fade into days,
Though faith remains, I can't forget the ways
The world turns blind before a sacred light.
The ink runs dry in wellsprings of the earth,
And sketching pagan forms forfeits rebirth.
Winter bestows the stars a brighter glow,
And yet how dimly beats this heart below,
As if beleaguered by the strains of night.
The distant dawn bequeaths no hallowed heart
to embellish the musings of my art.
Yet, burdens of the world aren't mine to bear,
And though horizons realm is cast in grief
A solace rises in a heartfelt prayer,
As I fall dead into easeful belief.
Ryter Roethical chose to carry on the main link for his closure and chose to carry on the link by the use of two couplets to make the quatrain....b. b. f. f.
Memories

No more will I feel your body pressed 'gainst mine
Or kisses that made my mind spin, like vintage wine
Leaving echoes of ecstasy still ringing in my mind
Your soft, gentle touch that always aroused my fire
Your pleasure, your love, I always tried to aspire.
The bed is now empty, no comfort for me there
The doona laid back, the sheets so cold and so bare
The pinnacles we reached are crevasses we find
And memories lie there so cold now you're gone
And gone is the loving on which the sun shone
I've searched and wondered why was I so blind
You didn't have to leave, why were you so unkind?
The clock that we cursed so much for moving too fast
Makes time crawl so slowly, a snail could race past.

As you can see this gives a very stong body and yet leaves a very versatile closure and one which is felt will make for some very interesting poetry.

Rosarian Sonnet Posts
Contents

Bruce Henderson

Too Old?
Trail of the Snake
Water from Stone

Dera Cymreiges

Pebbles in Hand

Kathy Anderson

Bishop Black: Last Things
Cherished More
Higher Love

Lorainne Stark

Her Garden
My Script

Simply Me

Sing to Me

Ryter Roethicle

Come! Walk with me
My Wings
Only in Death
Seasons
Through the Moons Absence

Bruce Henderson

Too Old?

O starry tiger, can you play today?
My childish visions have gone the same way
of rainbow halos that fortified stars.
We dreamed under blankets, to guard against
the vastness that devilled our tiny sense.
But now the world is small, and can equip
all of its marvels on a microchip,
as we drive toy trucks on the trail of Mars.
And, ghosts that spooked us off in the corner
are just another bloody foreigner.
Yet, ink still spills upon the plaited page
in tantrums that emancipate our cares;
the faith we planted in our youthful prayers
keeps yielding gifts regardless of our age.

-----

Trail of the Snake

Upon an ancient monolith, a pale
pathway stretches along a sacred trail
grown old in displacement and misplaced dreams.
And on this lonely land there is no sound,
except the stirring spirits in the ground.
The Sun beats down, day after day to warm
a god that rests within mineral form.
When all is dead, he shall rise through slipstreams
of magic to perform a primal rite,
before his rainbow hide was blasted white.
That trail you see that carves a slithered course
through stone, was moulded by a cosmic force.
His name was Wanambi, a dreamtime snake,
and from his burdened sleep, he stirs to wake.

-----

Water from Stone

Before you pass this land as dead, look close
upon its fallowed plot. A bearded ghost
still cultivates the blood-red soil. His hand
has wrought a country, ploughed with mystery,
that defies the constructs of history.
Exhaling life, from out its flushing field,
this land is more than all your wonders yield.
There is so much that man can't understand
in all his vaulted glory. Souls survive
in stone and wait for rains to spring alive.
The bearded ghost awakes, and points the bone
towards the rock atop the sacred land.
His hand strikes out the water from the stone,
and life bursts green upon the desert sand.

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Dera Cymreiges

Pebbles in Hand

Today I woke from just one more mad dream
where people roaming through my house did mean
no harm but did not seem to understand
that I was not amused with fun and games
nor did I have a clue as to their names.
As always when these dreams are just too much
I threw myself out of my bed and such
a scream came bawl'ring from my throat - be damned
if I cared what the neighbours thought or said,
this howl'ring was enough to wake the dead.
No more will I be pressed to save those stones,
those silly pebbles clutched within my hand.
I'll let them go and swim like hell for land;
I'll read them when it's time to rest my bones.

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Kathy Anderson

Cherished More

Would more be cherished this love so sublime,
Were loyalty of heart a treasure, not crime.
There would be more than fleshed incense and highs.
It could be satisfaction without pain,
Not syrinx cries of mournings loving wanes.
Call no false names in wanton flowered ears
But there instead take heed turtle doves tear.
The wings today that carried thee in skies
So rare a blue they could hypnotize you
And tear your soul into more than just two.
Would cherished be true loves designation,
As insouciant as bumblebee's path,
The name of which can't be found, but shunned
As clouds before the mornings sun be pith.

-----

Higher Love

Shadows fall from times shady grey branches
Below the door of dusk as dawns caches
Cradle the next uplifting sanguine hour
Held in art of friendships blooming golden
Gift, no maudlin rosaried inkless pen.
When shadowlands give sway unfortunate
Useless depressions in muddy palette,
Peace has no day and agape is sour,
Sure to lend handless arms no fellow aid,
Assuring dissonance inflows the staid.
Sapless winters hour becomes your power
Pouring snowdrifts of dreams into cups full.
Feel the May Days celebrations flowered,
Fine friends can know no higher loving mull.

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Lorainne Stark

Her Garden

She waits for me each day to care for her
I sense her needs, her thirst like a mother
Planted years ago my how they have grown
Surviving times of drought and winter's ice
They will not surrender or sacrifice.
In autumn they blend with the colored leaves
Winter robs them of time to bloom like thieves
Bare they stand against the cold on their own
Till springs warmth arouses them to flower
When new buds are bathed by gentle showers.
Mankind could not match this tapestry sewn
By the winds that carry each new seed blown
They give to me without one word spoken
This gift of beauty a precious token.

-----

My Script

I cannot paint that one great masterpiece
Instead I write my thoughts that never cease
To match my emotions right from my heart
From life's bouquet I pick at random
Doesn't matter I gather from each one
Slowly they form a connection for me
Just like a play there's act one, two and three
The performers use my words playing parts
Their positions must follow a sequence
Or my message is ruined a consequence
Somehow I manage to stage them just right
Proudly they blush just a slight hint of red
My poetic voice will be heard tonight
As I listen tears of happiness shed

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Simply Me

Sing to Me

I'd once thought that all hope was lost and then
I heard those sweet words from your heart again
What joy they brought my ears and my spirit
For yes, once more twas love and I in it.
I revel in each syllable's pure bliss
Attentive, I'm enthralled, I cannot miss
One single verse or sound that you emit
So speak of love and we as here I sit.
For I am yours with every sweet song
The lilting melody sweeps me along.
As you declare your love for me I swoon
And pledge myself again to only you
I feel as I'm the tides and you the moon
So sing to me, my love, as lovers do.

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Ryter Roethicle

Come! Walk with me

Come! Walk with me in the moonlight
Only you and I on this starry night
For have not we been together all time
Soul partners facing whatever our fate
Certain that you are my eternal mate.
Walk with me across the golden sands
Over moonlight desert as we hold hands
Searching for eternal secrets so sublime
The desert sand holds these memories
That in time will become our discoveries.
Reliving past events as we make life's climb Recalling why I am yours, as you are mine Come! Walk with me in the moonlight Let us relive again this starry night.

-----

My Wings

My wings have covered the tapestried earth
Flying high to see the sun give birth
And seen cloud pennants unfurl as I fly
And the shot blue silk of the Southern sea
With the world below in my apogee.
My wings have ridden the silken morn
Under Cancer and Capricorn
Patterning the silent and sunlit sky
Flying where birds can never be
Over which I rule all that I see.
My wings are covering the silent world
High over the conquered mountain
Watching the earth as it unfurled
And over which I rule as sovereign.

-----

Only in Death

Only in death can a body be perfect
No more wrinkles do we need detect?
No earthly body can live forever
Instead there's corruption of the flesh
And with the sod the corpse will mesh.
Only in death can a body be perfect
There's no need of mirrors to inspect
Zombies, mummies shall envy ever
When the tomb will become the crèche
And each night rise corrupt and fresh.
Was created from sod in Deitic fervour
See how sod and body blend well together
Each day, each change, each mood, affect
For only in death can a body be perfect.

-----

Seasons

Spring I’m told is the birth of life
Extracted by a drunken midwife
From a mix of placental specimens
A screaming, messy, painful time
And very slowly life starts its climb.
Summer has such sweet playful fingers
Where memories of first time lingers
And pubescent curiosity begins
Learning in the back seats of cars
Becoming older, sadder, in singles bars.
Then autumn is when peace begins
And love finally becomes free of sins
Where passion has burned to embers
At the fireside where love remembers.

-----

Through the Moons Absence

The moon misunderstood the question posed
And hid behind the clouds and I supposed
Was thankful for the thunder and the rain.
It rained, and still the moon refused to show
With thunder chasing lightning to a distant glow.
Only distant flashes and a dull and sonorous roll
Break the darkness as Luna ignores my earlier call
But the cold and damp somewhat relieve my pain
A feeling of being embraced by a blanket of air
As if Night herself wishes to tell of her care.
The moon still hides, will she e'r be seen again,
And with her gone will there ne'r be more insane?
With sleep, blessed sleep a bringer of sweet dreams
Instead of madness, impulse and lunatic schemes.

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