The Nove Otto poetry form was created by Scott J. Alcorn. It is a nine-lined poem with 8 syllables per line (isosyllabic). The rhyme scheme is as follows: aacbbcddc.

Marie’s Nove Otto:

Second Thoughts

I thought our connection was blessed;
and would have sworn to it, if pressed.
A line in the sand had been drawn,
To which I had turned a blind eye
‘til forced to return your goodbye.
Collecting my things, I moved on.
I thought our connection was strong;
Believed I was where I belong.
You took a glance back. I was gone.



Walt’s Nove Otto:


She draws what my mind envisions,
from draft through many revisions
translating with sketch pad and pen.
Her artistry draws me to see
her wonder as written by me;
my muse is excited again.
Collaborative creation,
our kinship in celebration.
The poet, the artist; the friends.

55 thoughts on “IN-FORM POET: Nove Otto

  1. Football Fears

    I think he may be just too small,
    too young. It can’t be fun at all
    to tackle and get pushed. Too late,
    he has been hurled across the line.
    We should have waited until nine
    years old to pad him up, not eight.
    Oh, no! He’s much too young. I can’t
    watch. I hold my breathe while he pants
    for air. He smiles wide, “Football’s great!”

  2. Two Hearts

    Two hearts in love shall beat as one,
    and live forever in the sun.
    True love shall guide them every day.
    They find their way along the track.
    No doubts or fears to hold them back.
    They seek a common ground, halfway.
    In unison a daily climb,
    while laughing at old father time.
    Two hearts in love they’ll always stay.

    By Michael Grove

  3. Deanna

    With bald head and nose like a beak
    And they say she has lots of cheek
    Her sixty years were less than grand
    Signs of childhood abuse remain
    An accident damaged her brain
    She most always will lend a hand
    She’s smart as a whip but she’s odd
    But not too eccentric for God
    For she shows she knows Him first hand

  4. Walking in the Rain

    Dramatic clouds paint the slate sky
    Walking in rainstorm feeling high
    Memories near from childhood days
    Hail pelts me but I do not mind
    A ride may come from someone kind
    But I’d refuse it anyways
    Home, I brush my tangled, wet hair
    Stung, my family shows no care
    But my childlike rainy joy stays

  5. Doomed Love

    It became abundantly clear
    after fierce fights fought that first year,
    you and I were not meant to be.
    We wanted to cling together.
    Reprimanding like your mother,
    I drove you away. The debris
    of our love littered my heart.
    Broken, we decided to part.
    Our first great decision, indeed.

  6. Sciurus – Latin for squirrel

    I smothered the bird feeder pole
    In Vaseline, then spent the whole
    Morning watching the squirrels slide
    Helplessly back down to the ground
    Clucking frustration as they found
    Their dinner plans upset. Inside
    The house, I poured a glass of wine
    And wondered when I’d cross the line
    From sabotage to sciurucide.

  7. Tik Tok

    So, deasil’s just another word
    for clockwise, which is more preferred.
    And how did they come up with this?
    But on the other hand, admins
    of lexicons say widdershins
    which otherwise one might dismiss
    since counterclockwise means the same
    as widdershins (a better name?)
    Yes…hands on clocks tick tock like this.


    Note: This is also posted on Poetic Asides, along with the original version of the poem.)

  8. Guys, you do know that I can’t count and type at the same time. Can’t reach my toes.

    Otto Dreams

    I’d like to live on a high bluff
    over a river, far enough
    below to be a ribbon world.
    I’d look down on blue herons, trees,
    green silk, silver boats, sunburned knees–
    ignoring the black road that curls
    behind me, string tied to steel things:
    loud, and crowded like the humming
    town, far from bluffs and river swirls.

  9. To Mick, who tried to tell me it was fall

    All right. I’ll give you that it might
    be fall some day soon. But last night,
    with the misty fog, wasn’t fall
    any more than Monday’s downpour,
    Tuesday’s odd sweater weather, or
    my urge for rich brown over cool
    blue knee socks; or squirrels hiding nuts
    ten deep in my big flower pot.
    Maybe next week, though. You can’t tell.

  10. My September Song

    Though August heat was hard to bear,
    a fresh, cool nip now fills the air.
    September slips into the room
    and darkness greets me when I rise,
    as if the night put out my eyes.
    No rosy sunrise, tardy moon
    peeks through my window when I wake.
    The clock’s alarm seems some mistake.
    I feel the days grow short too soon.

  11. Including Jane’s kind comment with her Nove Ottos. Thank you, Jane!!

    From Jane Shlensky:

    I’m loving Nove Otto, a form I had never tried and what our poetic friends have done with it at PB. It really challenged my will to rhyme;-)

    Writing and Being

    Sometimes words run away from me
    Laughing like children, fleeting, free,
    And I am peaceful, quiet, lost

    Without their whispers giving voice
    To thoughts and hopes; I have no choice
    But feeling what is true across

    A silent landscape, given time
    To know a depth almost sublime
    Dearer than words, despite the cost.

    In Sight

    A rosy blush on autumn pear
    beckoned to him, caught unaware,
    as he passed through the orchard’s shade.

    His spaniel noticed nothing strange,
    Though sunlight somehow rearranged
    His heart for beauty, long delayed.

    Now, he remembers as he dies
    Learning to use rejoicing eyes
    And meets this new light unafraid.

  12. Pingback: Friday Freeforall: Gather Ye Prompts While Ye May « Margo Roby: Wordgathering

  13. My Painted Bra

    I walk in with my painted bra
    you laugh and laugh, hah, hah, hah, hah!
    This is for a very good cause –
    There is a dolphin and turtle,
    see my mind is not infertile!
    Save your whistles and your applause –
    Raising breast cancer awareness,
    a worthy cause, in all fairness.
    A piece of art, not a faux pas.

  14. Game On

    In nineteen twelve, the Polo Grounds:
    a pitch, a swing…Wood makes the rounds
    as Boston, N.Y. duke it out.
    The crowds are up; they’re on their feet.
    They’re roaring for their team to beat
    the opposition. There’s no doubt
    collective breaths will all be held
    since on that day, the Sox repelled
    the Giants, with the final out.


    I posted this on my site, based on a prompt idea from Sepia Saturday.


    She walks across the narrow cord
    while stories down no net secured
    to save her if she steps aside
    and plummets to the ground below.
    What then to say, what’s left to show?
    But she insists she has her pride.
    “In this I will not compromise,
    so those who wish may criticize.
    Then if I fail, at least I tried.”


  16. The Sky is Falling
    –American Photo, Sept/Oct 2011

    Turns out
    Chicken Little
    was right
    on that day our hearts
    rained down
    as terror
    scraped the sky
    and gravity
    grabbed hold

    Ashes, ashes
    we all

  17. My first Nove Otto! Whew hew!

    Slacken Muse

    Perpetual wranglings of mind
    and will, summoned wisdom unbound
    readily crafted Nove’s ace form
    disentangled a slackened muse
    Competent, tried and true amused
    thoughts out of bounds naught uniform
    a quickened knight’s battle his plight
    against foes anointed in sleight
    others yearn for the sacred form

    Benjamin Thomas

  18. Pingback: Act of Living | Scarring Words

  19.   July 21, 2011PERFECT TEASER!!this is exactly why I love him!!! haha congrats on the win!!! hope he makes it to the end!!! can’t wait for the Q&A!and just keep doing your thing as always Rachel, in the end is what works better for YOU and your books!! and believe me!! THEY WORK!!!

Comments are closed.