Cyhydedd fer
(cuh-hee-dedd ver)

A very pleasant form consisting of couplets of eight syllables. This form can be used as a series of couplet stanzas similar to the Ghazal, or as a header or tail with one of other forms, e.g. Toddaid.

Sordid Tricks

A warrior wears a suit of white
Believing that he fights for right.

His leaders wear the colour black
Telling him what should be his track.

Politics and truth can never mix
They do all sorts of sordid tricks.

Politician often survives
By taking risks with young men's lives.


Ryter Roethicle
Deborah Bell has suggested an addition to this form which is well in keeping with Welsh traditions, in that the last word of the previous stanza, becomes the first word of the next, linking them.

Cry Loud

Cry loud with the mother who tries
To shield her child from all the lies.

Lies that feed a danger so stark
In the streets, so steeped in the dark.

Dark nights that lay heavy on her
fragile shoulders, her life one blur.

Blur in edges of black and white
Notions of law, that fade in night.


Deborah Bel

Cyhydedd fer Posts
Contents

Deborah Bel

Cry Loud
When She Wakes
Wild Flower

Gloria Carpenter

Back Road

Ryter Roethicle

Droughts End, (Australian Style)
What should I do

Lorainne Stark

Clock Wise

Sonnetina2

Featherlight


Deborah Bel

Cry Loud

Cry loud with the mother who tries
To shield her child from all the lies.

Lies that feed a danger so stark
In the streets, so steeped in the dark.

Dark nights that lay heavy on her
fragile shoulders, her life one blur.

Blur in edges of black and white
Notions of law, that fade in night.

Night falls onto streets like stupor
Laden heat, emotions in fever.

Fever rising on points of pain
Inflicted there in bloody rain.

Rain in tears and sweat of the poor
Trapped there, searching daily for cure.

Cure for streets where children crumble
From innocence to then stumble.

Stumble from political lies,
Cry loud, for the mother who tries.

Tries to break away from the fears
In her streets, cry loud with your tears.


-----

When She Wakes

Old curiosity marks her
Morning as she tingles and stirs

Stirs in languid moves with no rush
In her stretch, skin warm with dawn's flush

Flush cheeks below eyes that look
In wonder on the sylvan brooks

Brooks where sorrow or tales of woe
Hold no place as she turns to go

Go forth in her day's wanderings
Where each moment new sights do bring

Brings the rare and fitful stages
Of brilliance; surfacing pages

Pages of life, pages she wept
Or sang low in melodies kept

Kept for curiosities sake,
When in dawn's light, she will awake.

-----

Wild Flower

You who stand tall to bob and sway
White, no, too harsh a word to say

More like cream, white, with a warm touch
Cascade in those bells, loved so much

Such delicate beauty to rise
From such sharp spears, your plan I surmise

To contrast the harsh with the soft As high you toss your blooms aloft.

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Gloria Carpenter

Back Road

Today the Back Road called my name
With turn around the bend it came

And drove with me to show a way
Iíd never been before today

It took me through the countryside
Past hedgerows high where birdnests hide

Through wildrose lanes with petalled scent
Yet still it travelled, still it went

Until at last, as if it knew
It left me here, where I found you.

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Ryter Roethicle

Droughts End, (Australian Style)

A hundred thousand voices sound,
Onto the parched earth they pound.

Pounding, pounding, blessed sounding,
Crashing splashing, heavínly washing.

A hundred thousand puddles form,
And parched earthy cracks transform.

Filling, filling, over-filling,
Gushing, running over, flooding.

A hundred thousand rivers flow,
Into towns and homes they go.

Gushing, pushing, torrential breath,
Finally sated with human death.

-----

What should I do

And what should I do with my secret?
Telling you, would it be discrete?

Do you know who it most concerns,
Or should I wait until she learns?

Now upon looking I can see
I have piqued curiosity.

I can see looking in your eyes
Youíre not fooled by this disguise.

I see you smile, you take my hand
And surrender as you planned.

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Lorainne Stark

Clock Wise

I see the clock and hear its chimes,
precisely it declares the time.

I do not wish to waste this gift;
to go through life like a cloud drifts.

Every second leads to minutes-
they become the associates,

That come together as hours
seize each moment, as it flowers.

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Sonnetina2

Featherlight

I travel life by wings of night
With moon above in featherlight

I never land, what is the use
I like to fly, Iím on the loose

I have no strings or baggage yet
I have no lovers to forget

By flying free I choose my course
I need no other outside force.

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