This week has seen me chopping and changing between different forms of poetry. On Monday at One Stop Poetry Gay Cannon had us looking at and trying rhyme schemes. I posted English Seaside (https://sallyjblackmore.co.uk/2011/05/09/playing-with-rhyme/). I had some great feedback, as always, from other One Stoppers.
On Wednesday with Byfleet Writers we dabbled with double dactyls…mind boggling stuff. My one finished attempt is posted under my Daily (almost) Poems (https://sallyjblackmore.co.uk/napowrimo/dastardly-dactyls/).
And today I have been attempting to rewrite an old poem as a Pantoum in the hope that restating it within the form would improve the poem. It is still awkward in places and there are a few small diversions from strict pantoum form(!), but it is improving I think.
All comments are welcome in the interests of making it better!
Who then, if not me?
Who then if not me I think.
The express train runs smooth and fast.
Once again my spirits sink,
fingers clenched, my eyes downcast,
This express trains is much too fast –
A flash of yearning, hard to swallow
At warm, bright windows flashing past.
I press my nose to grimy window.
A flash of yearning, hard to swallow.
I won’t go home. I can walk right by
the darkened house, its pall of sorrow.
I’ll pretend I’m late. I’ll tell a lie.
I won’t go home, I’ll walk right by,
say hockey practice made me late.
The hard cut hedge fields my sigh.
I quietly snick the glossy gate.
Can’t say something made me late.
I step into the chilly gloom.
Still and pale, she sits, she waits.
Misery crowds the darkened room.
I step into the chilly gloom,
pill bottles form an orderly line.
Why must I always be first home?
When did this problem become mine?
Pill bottles form an orderly line –
once again my spirits sink.
How could this problem become mine…
Who then – if not me?