This week’s featured poetry form is a bit of a challenge. It is called GENESIS. It has been devised by Walt Wojtanik, and takes its name from the musical group by the same name. The form consists of three (the last configuration of the group had three members) six-lined stanzas each with the rhyme scheme A-B-A-C-A-B (“ABACAB’ was one of the group’s big hits). There is no syllable count or any set meter.
MARIE ELENA’S GENESIS:
INVISIBLE TOUCH
When I can take no more
I lift my face to see
The One whom I adore.
He makes His presence known,
And He is then no more
Invisible to me
Than she inside my mirror.
He leans in close and then,
He whispers in my ear,
That I am not alone …
The words I need to hear,
Then whispers them again.
He moves through time and space
To take my fears away.
I welcome His embrace.
He tells me I’m His own,
And seals me with His grace,
A debt I can’t repay.
© 2012 Marie Elena Good
WALT’S ORIGINAL GENESIS:
CLARITY
A clearness of mind,
with a sense of objective,
thoughts quite refined,
without trepidation or fear.
Synapses unwind
giving you some perspective.
Memories of pasts seem kind,
and your viewpoint is less subjective.
leaving doubt far behind,
to find your purpose here.
For fear may put you in a bind
and your choices are less selective.
Retain your focus, and you will find
your decisions are quite protective,
your rationale is sealed and signed,
and always has your ear,
Then your clarity becomes well defined;
Incisive and introspective.
© 2012 Walt Wojtanik
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
Wow, Walt and meg!!! (I do so love Genesis also)!
For a little clarity, Walt. In your dream of genesis, did you intend for all the A lines to rhyme through the stanzas, and Bs, and Cs?
I SO enjoyed your examples this morning, you two and nice form, Walt!!
I shall return, my friends~Smiles!
Walt and Meg, once again…blown away!…once again, you seduce me with a new form;) Later…
I find myself humming…
M.E., I can’t know if this is the best poem you have ever written, but I do know that it is the best that I have read.
Daniel, i agree with your comment:)
I love it and in studying it further, Marie, I really like how your alone lines that don’t have a rhyming partner in each stanza, rhyme with each other in the three stanzas together. Works really well, so uniting. Beautiful!
And now looking back I see that Walt’s is like that, too. So does the “C” represent that rhyme scheme? Or was that just coincidence.
Again, form forcing me to have an extra cup of coffee!! lol
I’ll catch-on! smiles
LOL, oh me too!!!
Seriously, Daniel? That surprises me, since I wasn’t happy with. THANK YOU! Thanks to all of you for your kind comments!
Yes,indeed, seriously…you have written many heart-felt poems,and some funny pieces as well. This one has an authenticity to it, a purity which tells us who and how you are. What more can you ask of yourself as a writer? Anyone can over-analyze the words, the phrasing, the structure. Me, I just want beauty in a poem like this, and I got it. Thank you for giving it to us.
Shoot…i missed realizing that the 3 C lines need to rhyme! May I submit an edited version? Thank-you Hannah for the comment to them. I reviewed the c lines just now and saw the rhyme scheme there.
Walt for what it’s worth… I love this format and hope to try another…
Genesis of Seduction
Purple petals spread across the emerald grass
Their fragrance wafting on springs virgin breeze
I fall prey to their suggestions as they pass
To be seduced by violets is a glorious thing
I must find my slippers made of glass
For I am surely a princess in moments as these
It is no anemic and casual glance
You toss to me from across the room
We touch each other in an invisible dance
To be seduced by a lover’s eyes is a euphoric guiltless fling
Is it the heart or the eye that stirs the bud of romance?
Beneath love’s tender gaze, timid lilies bloom
In twists and swirls, you taunt and tease
With legends of spilled ink
You breathe across vast centuries
To be seduced by poetry is the pinnacle of longing
Arousing keen awareness of my meager capabilities
I open my mouth to your lips, and I drink and I drink
This is gorgeous, so romantic!!
I love this…
“In twists and swirls, you taunt and tease
With legends of spilled ink
You breathe across vast centuries
To be seduced by poetry is the pinnacle of longing,”
Sweet images throughout, nice one, Janet!! We both have a form of “waft,” today! 🙂
OMG, this is exquisitely BEAUTIFUL!!!
Thank-you Hannah and Henrietta:)
OK Janet, I removed original . I may have lost the title if it had on. Can amend that if you wish.
Walt, I think I neglected to add the title Genesis of Seduction to round two. If you can add it that’s fine and if not then I won’t worry a bit. thank-you for the extraction, Dr. Walt:)
It is exciting what you have found to do with this form: I may be inspired to have another go.
Exquisite, indeed Janet!
I love this one Janet!
Janet, this is exquisite!
Coincidences all. Per Sue, was the orignal intent, but seemed too rigid. the ABACAB can change from stanza to stanza.
The “C” line do NOT need to rhyme, but if it works out that way, fime.
Good atempts so far.
Thank-you Walt for that clarification.
Please take time to vote on the PB=poll. Gatherin opinioins for future ideas.
http://poeticbloomings.com/2012/03/06/poetic-bloomings-poll-1/
Have done so;) great ideas!
Walt, I chose not to vote on this, only because I do not have time to participate often. Unofficially, though, I think it would be fun to see a reader’s choice.
~SERENITY~
Instruct me o’ way
wise, to number words,
never slumber, loosing today.
My life like a slipping sigh,
wind rippling, soft display;
waft dreams, move me, Lord.
O’ Spirit, sweet billow, may
Your will wash me forward.
Watch my sleep and my play,
flow steadily, ready with time.
Tasting wind’s whisper, I pray
fill to full, blooming-flowered.
Gentle rustle, nature stray
release love’s inner core
capture essence, erase dismay
replace negativity with life’s fluidity, rhyme
reason found, Son-burst, here to stay
sending fear, failing courage to corner, to cower.
(~Written for~inform/Genesis~H.G. 2012)
OH BOO! ha ha….my spaces between stanzas are not apparent. 😦 Grrr..my perfectionist heart is breaking!! 😉 lol
Well you guys know, my intentions were there. Smiles, hope you guys like it. 🙂
Luck I’m a perfectionist heart sturgeon.
I AM lucky! Thank you!!
Oh, Hannah, this is so tender and lovely…..!
Thank you, Hen, I appreciate it!! 🙂
Hannah, I was wafted on the flow of your words. they evoked tears and praise.
‘Son-burst, here to stay’…o-o-oh, yes!
I’m so glad, Janet, grateful for your words, thank you!
Hannah, beautiful prayer and poem.
Thank you, Connie!
Wishes for Emma
Happy birthday. Today you are four.
You’ve grown so big and tall, each month your height
is marked right there on your bedroom door,
sometimes with a pencil, sometimes a pen,
marked with your bare feet pressed against the floor,
stretching tall your pretty head, held high and right,
so not an inch of yourself is missed.
Your soft brown hair in curly loops, pert nose
that wiggles when you grin, your eyes – love’s abyss,
where given a chance I’d forget myself.
We’ll spend every day, kisses and hugs, such bliss
you wearing frilly dresses, ribbons and bows.
But my special girl lives far, far away
on an island where blue and gold stripy fish
swim with her in warm clear water all day.
The sands are white and warmed by the sun,
safe, shallow water in a protected bay
for her to enjoy for as long as she might wish.
Oh, MM, a precious Grandmother’s heart here!
This is truly so sweet, love just leaking from each line…
I love your description here…
“so not an inch of yourself is missed.
Your soft brown hair in curly loops, pert nose
that wiggles when you grin, your eyes – love’s abyss”
Beautiful, Misk.
Misky, I don’t know much about form poems — not even in Danish. But I like the life in your poem and I love the image. Thanks.
Misky, this truly warms the heart! You paint a picture so easy to visualize! Stretching as tall as possible against the door frame. I’m smiling because minutes ago our youngest daughter Victoria, who is turning 11 tomorrow wailed’ I’m going to be 11 and I’m still short!”
A lucky child indeed.
Great poem. I love the details, Misky.
MM, Heartfelt, beautiful poem.
In Each Other’s Arms
You and me in each other’s arms
Making promises we can’t keep
Learning what heals and harms
Mesmerized by a love so new
Captivated by each other’s charms
Laying in a tumbled heap
You and me in each other’s arms
Trying not to make a peep
Nightly noise raises alarms
Sister’s in bed, brother, too
Being caught causes harms
Listening for patter of little feet
You and me in each other’s arms
The roots of our love growing deep
Laying here soothes and warms
Through the years we stay true
Finding shelter through the storms
Contented with the life we reap
My revised version is on Poetic Asides. Is there a way to delete a post? I thought there was, but I can’t find it.
Such beauty found, love it, Connie!
Thanks, Hannah!
Wow! Genesis looks to be a formidable form — and yet, you’ve kicked it off with 2 strong examples, and you’ve got some beautiful offerings here already! Call me intimidated! :-]
ok, here’s a, attempt that’s a combination of the “Fear” prompt and the “Genesis” form…Ely made me use the slanted rhyme:
Random
Couldn’t be him, said his brother.
He‘s not that kind of guy.
We never spoke, said another,
never saw him angry, though those
shades were always drawn, windows covered.
Who can guess the reasons why.
Police said he didn’t try to run,
said nothing, didn’t even hide.
There were no bullets left in his gun,
no ID in all his clothes,
just a note, saying, “ain’t life fun?”
They said he smiled before he died.
Six people did he kill,
none who knew him at all.
Please don’t say it was just God’s will.
There’s no reason why it was those.
Armed he was, though clearly ill,
one for the gun lobby, zero for the law.
Great job, Daniel. Strong poem.
Perfect combo, making the poem strong and fearful at once. Love that last line.
That was rather chilling! I like slant rhymes-very Dickinsonian!
Here’s my attempt (for this prompt and The Mag 107):
You
You’re a little, little man
Trying to play me for the fool
Did you think you had a plan?
What an idiot you are!
Just a worthless, paltry pissant, and an
utter trifling tool.
You’re an itty bitty boy
And I really hate your hat
Try to treat me like a toy?
See what happens to you now
Go away and don’t annoy
me anymore you rotten rat!
You’re a small pathetic loser
and a parasitic tick
You know that it’s all true, sir
I am looking down at you
Come on, face me, your accuser
Jeez, you really make me sick!
I just adore it when anger is put to paper…nice job
🙂
great to get it off your chest like that. Words are never terminal.
Walt’s Genesis Bar 😉
MId-day at the Genesis Bar,
escape from lands of confusion,
loyal contributors to the tip jar.
Tony that worked at the bank,
Mike that worked on cars,
Phil claiming comp for a concussion.
Each would stay ’till closing time,
or unless called by Gabriel,
none could dance, all preferred lime
with their tequila and Tom Collins.
Tony usually paid, Phil hadn’t a dime,
Mike traded drinks for used radials.
They talked of the invisible touch
of loves lost to misunderstanding,
in too deep, leaning on alcohol’s crutch,
knowing they were throwing it all away.
Sledgehammer blows to ego too much,
last call a habitual daily ending.
Big story in a few words
Love this, Mark.
Walt and Marie, now I created my Genesis poem – only it’s not in the form that you request. Oh, what a frustration because I’d love to share it with you but I could only create it in my own voice. I am so sorry but I can’t do this in whatever language I pick (Danish, German, English).
It’s like my words come out in a certain way and I have to keep up with the flow – and if not, then I don’t feel right.
Hopefully you’ll have “Genesis” as a keyword for your next prompt or later.
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This is my second try, after I mistook the repeated rhyme scheme for each stanza. It’s a cool form, Walt, even if I can’t read. Here’s my attempt.
Air Raid
The sky is darkened with their wings;
their screeching echoes through the trees,
fair warning that migration brings
abundant problems for foraging flocks
who scan the landscape every spring
and mark the feeders they will seize.
Like feathered hordes, vast moving strings,
hundreds of grackles, loud as geese,
let instinct’s compass and moorings
guide them to favorite rest stops, blocks
of forests and fields offering
them respite, an hour or two of ease.
They blot the ground, descending,
scaring the local birds like Valkyries
taking by siege all offerings
of the land, seed, insect, suet, or nesting box,
feathered armies widely ranging
‘til time to catch a migrant’s vagrant breeze.
Wow, now that’s painting witih words. 🙂
Yes indeed. I’d like to have that painting.
One more, now that I know;->.
Baby Cakes: Grandma Explains
I love to shop for baby clothes
soft booties, hats, and snuggle-ware,
imagining that each of those
will warm some tiny person’s frame
from any wind of harm that blows
until the babe is grown, aware.
I finger fabrics in the rows
of hangers holding sizes, spare
to chubby, long and tall, close
to perfect little outfits, all named
after bunnies, kittens, tiny toes,
for newborns in their underwear.
I stand and daydream fashion shows
of grand-daughter, her body bare
unless Grandma (or Grandpa) goes
shopping; surely we can’t be blamed
for squeezing sweet things by the loads
into our car. To spoil is to care!
Oh, sweet…. the little, teensy, tiny shopping sprees! :)!
Love this one! 🙂
Thanks, Hen and Connie. If they had these things in super-granny sizes, I’d live in soft little onesies and overalls;D.
Okay…here is my lame-o attempt at this new (to me!) form:
Why?
Why is it that my best ideas come at 4 AM…
and it’s dark, and no writing instruments are ever nearby?
And why, in the shower, do I think of the perfect gem
but cannot write it down
because I am soaking wet and my hair’s a soap bubble diadem
and I don’t have any ‘tub crayons.’ Why?
My cerebrum (or cerebellum – or maybe my brain stem?)
simply won’t comply
with my timeframe. Could it be chem.-
ical? Where’s the right verb? The right noun…
My life is all mayhem
and (dang!) the havoc just continues. Why?
I swear, my muse must be sipping a bit too much Yquem,
(or maybe she really is just shy.)
But either way, it’s kind of a problem
which really brings me down.
But please. No tiny violins; no requiem.
This whole tirade is largely rhetorical. Do you have to ask why?
###
Hee, hee, I finally started keeping a composition notebook, pen, and small bedside lamp near my pillow because the thoughts that come to mind at night cannot be remembered in the morning, no matter how much I think they will.
Yes, RJ. Though I’m not “the muse type” – I love this poem.You come around those irritating moments. Thanks.
Good one. 🙂
RJ This is all so real! Yes notebook etc by bed. But there’s nothing to be done from the shower save to run dripping-naked for a pen. I love the fun of the enjambments.
LOL! 🙂
A first attempt at this form – I’m not thrilled with it and if I have time will try another bit it’s an interesting form …
Ode to A Friend
In my youth I was never alone
For the love of my life was a horse
A reddish mare, a colour called roan…
The two of us could always be found riding
And to sit astride her felt as on a throne
A habit even now I strongly endorse
Through the years I’ve never known
A pleasure to equal my equine source
Many’s a time I swear ’twas love to me shown
By this creature I rode who needed not my guiding
Cantor, trot or gallop; never once was I thrown
My faithful steed steadily stayed the course
Came time what kindness needed doing, grew in me like a stone
It was breaking my heart and I knew, myself I’d have to force
She’d been slowing, sometimes sick,was becoming just all bone
The fact of her death pending soon, from that there was no hiding
The day I selected, I arrived to find her in her stall, stretched there, prone
I gave her the shot and I lay down beside her, all for the love of that horse.
S.E.Ingraham©
Cry…. I love horses.
I just wrote three short articles on horses. So I was right there with you. Great topic and writing, Sharon
GENESIS TO ETERNITY
as He spoke
in the beginning,
daylight broke;
creation
continued with Man, who’d choke
the world by sinning
then His plan
began to unfold
to save Man,
it would mean
for His own Son, rather than
Man, a death untold
King of Kings
will return to stay;
He will fling
wide the gates…
and with the angels, we’ll sing
our praises that day
This is a great form, Walt! I’m still so uncomfortable with rhyming, but I went for it anyway. However, I can’t seem to shake the shadorma — so I buried three of them within the Genesis!
…..yes…..
Really loved this. I started with a “spirtual” inspiration and just couldn’t get it to work. Great job telling a Great story!
Cool!
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A somewhat clumsy attempt at
A Chilly Genesis
A tropical lady, showing great courage,
in sleeveless cotton frock, bare legs and sandals
proudly walks the wintry village
while I shiver for her.
Warmly wrapped in layers to discourage
draughts, I am loath to follow her example.
That sight met me on my walk up to the superette this morning, encased in thermal layers, thick sweater, anorak, scarf and gloves.
Vivi, your title and your “tropical lady” – I love your images. And here on our international women’s day! In a way you should have lent her a jacket, a blouse or something.
But right here, thanks, great poem!
Oh, sorry Viv – constantly I say Vivi. I guess that would be your name in DK but I’m so sorry – I have noticed and I will say “Viv” in my mind now for some time.
And again, great poem. In my opinion you succeeded.
No sweat, Andrea: Vivi I am to some, but I am Viv in my mind. . I will answer to either. Thanks for the compliments, but I still reckon the poem is clumsy, and lacks couple of stanzas.
DFTBA Records
Music has been a friend
That flits in and out of my days
Our relationship seemed to end
When I started to grow
And I left band and all its trends
For sports and teenage ways
But then my friends began to lend
Me their favorite songs to play
I started searching for a certain blend
A favorite new flavor to know
Looking through all the labels could send
Worrying truly original artists had gone away
Just as my hope began to end
I found where the hidden gems lay
In the unsigned, unheard, online trend
People whose talent and energy flow
My faith in music started to mend
When artists can say what they meant to say
Your musical history is what comes through loud and clear, and I failed even to notice the form! Success.
Good one, Lori! 🙂
I lovelovelove the idea of this form. Yet I have started 3, and cannot seem to get everything to go where it should. I think I’m intimidated by so many fantastic offerings…or maybe it’s that I keep trying to sneak some subtle Phil Collins lyrics in? 😉
Still pondering…
Fun form, but when rhyming, I sometimes get in a “meter” dilemma. In any case, here is my attempt.
Love of the Game
My love for the game
started in the 4th grade
and for you it was the same.
I was inspired by a tall, redheaded
forward, Debbie was her name.
(Unlike me), You, like her for this game were made.
I’ve seen the drive
as you practice and shoot.
To get better is for what you strive.
I’ve enjoyed watching your confidence boost
It really makes you come alive.
You’re tall and athletic and have a great shot to boot,
it’s no wonder you love playing ball.
As you drive, dribble, shoot and make two
and occasionally on the floor sprawl.
I’m out of my seat and ready to yell
at the refs who made a bad call.
I love hoops even more thanks to you!
Brings back memories. 🙂
So much to fear.
How do I choose?
Everywhere I peer
so many grays
and, ironically, clear
so many blues.
I don’t want to fear.
Something I would choose:
to listen and hear
in so many ways
to be right here
with the voice of a muse.
I do decide not to fear.
That is what I choose.
To raise a cheer
for nights and days,
to cry not a tear,
to see colorful hues.
Richard Walker
Genesis on Genesis (in-form for PB)
My genesis is rooted
in a merging of two stems,
one in womb of ocean, reputed
to have slipped ashore among
wild beach plums, and thus suited
to willowy reeds, and singing wrens.
My other stem rose
from a weary womb
of poverty, where disclosed
by siblings numbering five,
that she was never supposed
to be born, an accident one June.
Both stems grew, combining
seeds, unique, that bore
two blooms, petals climbing
in different shapes and sizes
just genes realigning,
plucking part of each stalk’s core.
Lovely merging…..
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