IN-FORM POET – The Monchielle

The trend for In-Form Poet has been to highlight a uniquely different form than the norm.
Today’s offering is the Monchielle, a form created by Jim T. Henriksen.

The Monchielle is a poem consisting of four five-line stanzas where the first line repeats in each verse. Each line within the stanzas consist of six syllables, and lines three and five rhyme. The rhyme pattern is Abcdc Aefgf Ahiji Aklml.

Marie Elena’s Monchielle:


ORDAINED

Not all who dare to dream
Pursue the vision’s call.
Life dares obstruct their view,
Or taunts their fragile core,
And plans then go askew.

Not all who dare to dream
Take pleasure in the path.
Though they may first begin
With passion at the helm,
The process wears them thin.

Not all who dare to dream
Seek guidance from Above.
Bold faith begins to pale,
And expectations wane,
Then in the end, they fail.

Not all who dare to dream
Race on, and finish strong.
You dreamed, you sought, you vowed.
Your vision, now fulfilled,
You’ve reason to be proud.



Walt’s poem:


In The Distance She Stands (Monchielle)

In the distance she stands,
softly angelic, she.
Beauty beyond compare,
an ever-present smile
and windblown auburn hair.

In the distance she stands,
a lost soul, complacent.
Searching the horizon
for a glimpse of love’s shine;
compassion’s communion.

In the distance she stands,
a mournful heart, guarded.
Longing life’s sweet caress,
apparition most sweet;
whose love beats in my chest.

In the distance she stands,
dispersing in the mist;
a sad, sun-kissed farewell,
an ever-lasting love
here, where my angel fell.

Copyright © 2011 – Walt Wojtanik


21 thoughts on “IN-FORM POET – The Monchielle

  1. TIME TO DIETLosing weight’s not easy.Unless you’re a snowman,those pounds don’t melt away.You’ll need more than sunlighton a warm winter day.Losing weight’s not easy.You just can’t make a wishor bend your knee to pray,then sit back expectinga thin you’s on the way.Losing weight’s not easy.Start cutting down on food.Leave the table. Don’t stayto stuff your face each meal.Go exercise. Go play!Losing weight’s not easy.It takes a lot of work.One pound at a time mayhelp you in time be thin,provided you don’t stray. #

  2. AS HE GROWSHe took a step away,unstable and unsurestill reaching for a handto grab if he should fallsecuring him to stand.He took a step away,that first day off to school.His mother standing by,he noticed not the tearescaping from her eye.He took a step away,always self reliant,with interests of his own;encouraged all the whilethat he was not alone.He took a step awaythis week got on a plane,mature beyond his yearstraveling down underagain I hid my tears.~Kellyhttp://livingfourreal.blogspot.com/

  3. This is what I came up with for this one. Call it inspired.A Day's choiceIt has come, this new dayTo write of things first seen,Seeking joy's moments, allSummer brings to please meBefore the chill of fall.It has come, this new dayTo hear the tune of Earth,Which hums below man's noise,Patiently waiting still,Made silent by man's toys.It has come, this new dayTo feel the pulse of manAs he rushes headlongToward fools' petty dreams,Without hearing Earth's song.It has come, this new dayFor me to follow stepsAmong daisies unshod,To glory in beautyWithin footprints of God.

  4. Ten Little Hors d'oeuvresIn all I've owned ten goldfish.The first four were all named Goldie.I fed them every hour; they grew very, very fat.They puffed up and up until they were each gobbled up by Colin, my tabby cat.In all I've owned ten goldfish.The fifth I aptly nicknamed Spot.It had white splodges all across its backbut those spots're fungus, and it rolled over belly up.Colin ate it up as a midnight snack.In all I've owned ten goldfish.The next four were all nicknamed Chips,maybe they'd live longer with a non-fishy nameand each one lived as happy as a fish can ever hopebut Colin still gobbled up each one, just the same.In all I've had ten goldfish.The last one I nicknamed Colinthinking that my tabby wouldn't dare to eat anything called by its own exact same name.But hungry Colin ate up Colin as a mid-morning treat.

  5. This was a fun prompt and I loved reading everyone's interpretation of the prompt. It's a lovely "space" where we all are comfortable sharing and growing.Hats off to David Bowie as well.Kim King

  6. I Met Deadline TodayI met deadline todayJust two short articles Not much more than an inch.Won’t take much time, I thought,I’m sure they’ll be a cinch.I met deadline todayStudied topic at hand. The first one was a breeze.So it stands to reason The next would come with ease.I met deadline todaySo I wrote past midnight.But the words made no sense. So I moved things aroundAnd I worked on the tense.I met deadline todayTook six hundred two words And I whacked them in half.So now I will sit back, rest, and have a good laugh.

  7. I gotta tell you, I struggled with this form, and I'm not very happy with mine. However, it was to honor my sister (ordained Sunday), and I'm pleased that SHE is pleased with it. But you all are doing fabulous! Misk, I'm glad you posted, even though it didn't stick to the rules. Can't wait to see what else you come up with!Kelly, as usual, I know the story behind the poem. Such a wonderful mom you are!!Inspired indeed, Clauds!

  8. Posting this lovely piece by JANE SHLENKSY.We Need a Summer RainWe need a summer rainwhen dry grass burns the feetand sun-slowed road kill friesin heat waves’ hazy dust;we long to trust the skies.We need a summer rainto quench the thirsty earthconvincing blooms to show, tendrils to green and reach,and plumping fruit to grow.We need a summer rain—it can be angry stormswind-driven, lightning-seared,or sweet soaking showers,rainbow-arched and sun-cleared.We need a summer rainto push a promise deepinto the fecund earth, to whisper life can stillhold love and hope and mirth…

  9. Mirrors merely reflect.They neglect what's inside,good, bad, or otherwise.The image is not mebut a shell; unspoken lies.Mirrors merely reflect.I hide. Deflect the scene,a fuzzy snapshot clicked.A simple silhouette,the camouflage I picked.Mirrors merely reflect.I would correct the view,this illusion of me.Project my heart instead.Blur lines to clearly see.Mirrors merely reflect.To detect what's beneatherode deposition.Strip away weathered paint,reveal disposition.

  10. The Fruit StandIt all stacks up the sameAll this fresh fruit of hersBuilding blocks of melonsA pyramid of fruitCorralled in andironsIt all stacks up the sameEach set strategically To keep them all in placeNine on twelve, six on nineSet wrong, they're all displacedIt all stacks up the sameA brain-dead job, stackingMelons three on fiveFresh fruit mimicking aHoneycomb in a beehiveIt all stacks up the sameImpulse, in she reachesMidway and pulls, whereforeA cascade of melonsRoll straight across the floor

  11. I like this form, y'all. It's small enough for me to get a handle on, but not so spare that every word feels like it ought to be a portent.Monchielle: the chatterthe chatter of poetslike ordinary chitchat and shop talk, makes sensein context. The moustacheand glasses are a pretense.the chatter of poetsis like dogs in the nightor philosophers' farts,long kindergarten jokes,and code between sweethearts.the chatter of poetscan be deafening-choral roars; or, hushed shywhispers. this one's silly;she's grand; he sings; some cry.the chatter of poets(not a collective noun)fills this symbolic roomin the clouds with Cheetosbees, belly flops, pink blooms.

  12. Unwelcome ChangeChange slyly stalks her prey.Padding on silent feet,waiting for the perfecttime to pounce; usurp whatwas before you detect.Change slyly stalks her prey.Sneaking up from behind,morphing minute detailsone at a time untila new product prevails.Change slyly stalks her prey.She's rehearsed every line.Her offer divine, shetempts, batting eyelashes.Pesuasion unforeseen.Change slyly stalks her preywhen no desire is there.It may seem unfair. Timewill ultimately judge all her unwelcome crimes.

  13. Michael Grove Said:I Just Want To Know You.I just want to know you.I have gazed in your eyes.Now I can truly see.Heaven above in you.A flush came over me.I just want to know you.I have witnessed your smile.There is light on your face.So bright and beautiful,and growing in the Grace.I just want to know you.I have heard your sweet voice,as hymns of love were sung.They blossomed from your lips,and rolled straight off your tongue.I just want to know you.I have felt you breathing.Each breath of life so true.An angel of mercy.I just want to know you.By Michael Grove

  14. He Whispered Words Of LoveHe whispered words of loveat first she thought it wasthe soft wind in the treescrackling the brittle twigsflying off into the breezeHe whispered words of loveagain she stood quite stillpretended not to hearsmiled,joked and laughed to hidea sudden grip of fearHe whispered words of loveshe drew her sword and thrustto banish him from herHe crushed her with his bootshe buried his soul in furHe whispered words of loveagain,to her, to herhe stripped,removed her guiseslammed the door, bolted locksthen, she gave him her eyesLisa Petrov

  15. Dedicated to Bishop Leonard Bolick of the NC Synod, Evangelical Lutheran Church of America“Your Supper Is Ready” – A Monchielle Poem Your supper is ready,Come on in for it now.The table has been set,Beautiful music airs,No better meal you’ll get.Your supper is ready,Now bow your head to pray.Release your fears to Me.Dining to bring you peace,Forgiveness you receive.Your supper is ready,Let hunger be relieved.Consume the bread and wine.As My body and blood,The repast is divine.Your supper is ready, I came to give you life.Don’t fear to come and eat.Always know I love you,Salvation is My treat.By Melissa Hager, 2011

  16. Water: MonchielleWater is much strongerthat any elementif given enough timeseeping into the depthsrising up to the climesWater is much strongerthat fire, dousing its flames,falling free from the skies,from the beds of cold ashallowing life to riseWater is stronger thanrusting scissors that cutpaper, which covers rock.Though rock may break scissors,water wears away rock.Water is much strongerthan wood—sends it aloft,roiling cloudward and toss’d—makes flotsam and jetsam,makes graves for the lives lost.

  17. Michael Grove said:Glory and GraceI have seen the gloryand been touched by His Grace,like a warm gentle breeze.I Said a prayer for hope.Spent much time on my knees.I have seen the gloryand felt peace in my soulas I fell down so low.He raised me up againand pulled me from below.I have seen the glory.I have painted rainbows,and wished on shooting starsfor the answers insideto heal the hardened scars.I have seen the glory.Worn blisters on my feet,and deep lines in my face.I’ll never doubt again.I’m living in His Grace.By Michael Grove

  18. Pingback: A Year Ago | Scarring Words

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