Hir a thoddaid
(Heer-ah-thod-eyed)

Again a very similar form to the Byr a thoddaid. It has any number of six line stanzas. Each stanza consists of two ten syllable couplets a. a. a. a. and a thoddaid. The thoddaid has a ten syllable line and the second line has nine syllables.
In the ten syllable line the main rhyme b. is found before the end of the line and links the nine syllable line by alliteration, assonance or secondary rhyme.

x x x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x b x x x
x x x x b x x x a

Tenth Canadian Pome

Ten silly bulls standing in line, what? Eh?
Ten silly bulls standing in line, what? Eh?
Ten silly bulls standing in line, what? Eh?
Ten silly bulls standing in line, what? Eh?
Ten silly bulls with rhyme internal be
Another nine makes fifty nine eh?

Gloria Carpenter

Hir a thoddaid
Contents

Allura D

Life of Lies
Time Yields

Kathy Anderson

Midnight Arms

Deborah Bel

Comes a Wistful Plea
Snow Ruby

Gloria Carpenter

Attitude of Mood
Flair O'Phil
I'll bee back
The Sting aka Vespula vulgari
Wild Outbursts

Collumcille

Bite My Tongue

Gaer Llwyd

Calling the Crossings

Ryter Roethicle

Let me
Winter Mood


Allura D

Life of Lies

We walk the paces that these days require,
Precariously balanced on strung wire.
The smiles we wear branding us the liar
As eyes dart from the path of our desire.
An endless road lies wandering and dull,
Pierced by mewling cries,void of fire.

-----

Time Yields

Our risin joy, no moment can contain.
Before it's beauty, yielding, time is slain.
Though seasons come and go, yes, wax and wane,
They fall against the press of love's refrain.
The boundaries that ageless days impose
Never will suppress the heart's campaign.

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Kathy Anderson

Midnight Arms

No clear thoughts to welcome nor gaily bid
The darkness of the night shined in moonlit grid
Through sentinal oak trees and starlit id
My psyche wanders wan, unuplifted.
Long does the heart stray, cliche swayed on wind
Within her dark arced arms raiment, she quids.

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Deborah Bel

Comes a Wistful Plea

Within the heart, to spur our soul to sing,
comes a wistful plea, an urgent longing.
So softly in the silent air it rings
clear, distinct, a migration of feeling.
But will we answer this inner demand
which tingles sense, stirred by our life spring?

It comes upon us in a sudden way,
while piper stands high on the hill and plays
a song to wrench our spirit from it's ways
of loving -- while expecting to be paid.
One keen moment in an unrivaled kiss
Opens up the eyes, with lover's blade.

And the question is not, when it will be,
But whether, will we hear that urgent plea?
Will we have grown enough to truly see
The importance of this life giving ease?
Soft hues fill my night as backwards I go
To travel the tracks of memory...

-----

Snow Ruby

Your velvet petal gently slides away,
Ripe red fading to softer pastel shades.
Rose, so gentle, so sweet in fragrance made,
The scent does linger brief, my spirit's raised.
No wonder all the lovers praise you so,
Their tributes to your name do strengthen faith.

The cup of your bright flower is deep green,
Like the stem, though your thorns may prick and tease.
But that again, does echo lover's pleas
Put forth in whispers under starlight gleam.
Thus, reaching down to catch this pleasant scent
Moments of pure bliss do caress me.

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Gloria Carpenter

Attitude of Mood

Let us speak of the shore and waves that cried
as they separate, collapsing inside
in scrolls of secret script on parchment, hide,
unrolling furls of flourishes, divide,
and leave behind a waxen kiss, unsealed.
In tearful melt, messages subside.

Perhaps this cycle has been misconstrued;
quite possibly this phase should be reviewed.
Such talk of farewell grief is darkest brood;
assumptions, often wrongly may conclude.

To what may we attribute thoughts as these?
Does not our attitude decide mood?


Let us speak of the shore and waves that ride
together as a pair, connections tied,
elapsing time in gentleness, they glide,
or spend their passion, joyfully collide
in zephyr breeze or surging winds of storm ~
As one, they merge, Luna as their guide.

-----

Phil O'Phil

‘Tis the Irish who breathe the distant Eire,
with a kiss of the Blarney Stone they dare
to spy on wee folk in green underwear.

Myopical? Leprechaunical? Lair?
Anatomically microscopical?
Ask Phil O’Sophical, Erin’s heir.

-----

I'll bee back

What a beaut! Radiating blistered meat
like pebbled bacon scorched by desert heat,
exploding lipids burst to vessels beat,
as floods of blood-red anger screamed defeat.

And he, that brazen one, who struck but once,
swollen pride emblazoned, will repeat.

-----

The Sting aka Vespula vulgari

It is too late. The stinger was the clue.
It penetrated. Venom surging through.
Eyes filled with suffering looking at you.
Is there nothing left to say? Nothing true.
Mockery laughing at a heartless joke,
A world apart where falsehood flies in view.

You looked so occupied on flower head,
I had no thought of fear, no thought of dread.
Abundance grew on fibonacci thread.
Why did you choose my meristem instead?
Your darker side has made its presence felt,
Angry redness swelling as it spreads.

-----

Wild Outbursts

Such succulence runs madly down my chin
when bursts of shiny drupelets stain my skin
in rambling trails, to show where they have been,
meandering through thickets, thin between.
Piercing teeth releasing ample sacs, spill
widely-sprouting seeds, blackberry grin.

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Collumcille

Bite My Tongue

I dabble and gamble, spread myself thin:
Avoiding hard labor, riding the wind;
Fortunate poet and fair musician,
I'm lucky I know, I've learned to listen.
Since God has no power over my time,
A rhyme an hour I would christen.

But I would that I would not be too much
Of a burden to listeners as such;
Attempting to master a Welshman's touch
With words I may yet limp home on a crutch.
Happy, I embellish in my own tongue,
Songs that in Welsh would make me say "Ouch!"

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Gaer Llwyd

Calling the Crossings

Dinner train waits at Hyannis station;
night's frivolity: its destination.
Passengers boarding with due elation,
photographs taken amid jubilation.
Culinary staff staid in their duties.
Crew on the train shares dedication.

Karen Drake pulls throttle: brave engineer;
comes forth on the rails without any fear,
There's nothing about her that's cavalier.
Safe passage of train, she will persevere.
Among all the legends you see her stand tall:
This railroad's best; peak of her career

The conductor, your scribe, watch in his hand
counting the time down like hourglass sand
passengers arriving: his train's in demand
their elegant evening: he understands
afternoon is waning: dinnertime looms.
Trains never leave late; he's in command.

Old locomotive, the engineer's pride.
Conductor waves high ball, moment's arrived.
Double horn blasts and the throttle's applied
Passengers settle for elegant ride
Fireman begins reviewing train orders
Down the main line through the rail yards they glide

Duty is honor to Skip the fireman,
calling the crossings is his battle plan
he'll make some couplings wherever he can
showing some age, but he's like Peter Pan
as tracks roll beneath him, settles to seat
rocks with rails’ rhythm, orders in hand

Beyond the yard limits, the train is outbound
The conductor begins making his rounds
Tracks aren't quite even and rocking abounds
Waitstaff starts serving, their balance astounds
Chef serves up chowder, over the jostling
Train headlights come on as red sun goes down

Great Barnstable saltmarsh, salads at twilight
Horn wails all the crossings, summoning night
Drake is alert through the big engine's flight
Waitstaff pours wine; conversations ignite
Music is playing, designed to set ease
On down the main line, spirits incite.

Talk in the tavern, they know that it's coming
The beer is flowing, jukebox is drumming
Through conversation, idea is humming
In their pockets for pennies they're fumbling
Twenty-ish sailors who find youth's desires
Miles down main line, steel horse comes rumbling

Conductor regales dining compartments
Train horn sounds crossings, the line of defense
Entrée is ready, the servings commence
orders restrict speed: good common sense
She's hoping to win, once more against fate
Sailors at crossing, put down their cents

Network of grade crossings: thirty or more
Fraught with dangers, Karen’s been there before
Cars dart through signals, her memories roar
Disastrous images lead her to hold
Unerring caution deep in her core

At Sandwich, passing Dewey, Skip makes the call
“Lights good at Liberty,” station and all
Jarves Street, Willow Street fly like wind squalls
Refill the glasses as each milepost falls
Mill Creek, rails curving, now moving toward
Sagamore siding; events will forestall

Conductor chatting, comes sound through the car
Multiple horn blasts warn those near and far
Vacate the rails, whether person or car
Trumpets again, same cacophonous jar
Breaks off conversation, heads to the front
Wants some answers: this isn’t quite par

Train brakes come on as he’s striding along
He looks through the window: something’s gone wrong
He listens for sounds, the stop seems prolonged
Shortwave comes on, like the sound of a gong
"Engineer to conductor, I’m getting off
to talk to someone!" time grows long.

Steps into the trap, opens the window
Looks out and down at the scene there below
Away from the train backs a car (not slow!)
Karen shakes her finger - see her bellow
Then back on the diesel, back to her post
Leaving young men with truths they should know

Back at the enginehouse, all decompress
Engineer chatters, relieving her stress
What they were doing was anyone’s guess
putting down pennies - could have been a mess
these days it could have been some kind of bomb
train was coming at them: stupid excess!

They said that the train was shaking the track
Knocking the pennies - they kept putting back
In middle of gauge - it’s there they’ll get whacked!
Their car was too close and could have been smacked
They answered like Coast Guard: "Yes, Ma’m; yes, Ma’m!"
Good decision was most that they lacked!

Lights burned late in the enginehouse that night
Emotions contained now out in plain sight
The crewmembers know to chew it out right
No mental cobwebs to turn into blight
Two sailors now know railroads’ Safety First
Engines and train crews roll on toward the light.

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Ryter Roethicle

Let me

My Love! Let me bring you warmth to your day
Allow me to take your hand, if I may
Late winters cold north winds will have their way
Starving to the bone those who disobey
Let me wrap you in my arms and warm you
And be free from any harm this way.

Let me take you to some beautiful place
Where we can disappear without a trace
Making love until all of time’s erased.
Losing ourselves in passions embraces.
We will journey in dreams of endless skies
Floating through streams of vap’rous space.

-----

Winter Mood

Wiping away the mist from frosted glass
Summers spectacle appears from my greenhouse
Outside’s desolate scene of winters grass
Merely hides a season that soon will pass
Budding plants and such will be transplanted
Springs gentle touch will be there at last.

No hope is given by the present sight,
This dull dank day transcends from duller night.
No hope is promised except that of right
That summer wins through this seasonal fight.
Budding seedlings wave from their small black nest
Feeling warm and brave, as well they might.

Winters moods are full of darkness and gloom
But light and Spring will be upon us soon.

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