Because I became intrigued by Welsh forms due to the Gwawdodyn challenge (deadline, August 31) posted by Robert Lee Brewer over at Poetic Asides, I thought it might be fun to do another Welsh poetic form this week. This one, the Rhupunt, is fairly easy (well, easier, I think) and is actually kind of fun.
As you will see, first you write the stanzas like you would stanzas, but then you (usually) make each stanza into one line. So, if you have two stanzas, you would end up with an internally and externally rhymed couplet.
Okay – here’s the scoop:
According to the Encylopædia Brittanica, (http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/501811/rhupunt) the Rhupunt, also spelled Rhupynt, is one of the 24 metres of the Welsh bardic tradition. A Rhupunt is a verse composed of three, four, or five four-syllable sections linked by Cynghanedd (an intricate system of accentuation, alliteration, and internal rhyme) and rhyme. In a four-section verse, the first three sections are made to rhyme with one another, and the fourth section is made to rhyme with the fourth of the next verse. The whole is written as a single line or is divided into as many lines as it has rhyming sections.
The Poets Garret (http://www.thepoetsgarret.com/celtic2.html) says this about the Rhupunt: A four syllable line, each stanza can be of three, four or five lines a..a..a..B. The next stanza rhymes the similar c..c..c..B. The rhyme could change for the next stanzas. We end up with a pattern thus:
x x x a
x x x a
x x x a
x x x B
x x x c
x x x c
x x x c
x x x B
It is common to join the lines together and end up with the two stanzas making a line each. The following stanzas would do the same and the result is as shown below in the Rhupunt long.
x x x a x x x a x x x a x x x B
x x x c x x x c x x x c x x x B
A couple of other sites about the Rhupunt:
All Poetry http://allpoetry.com/column/7546199-Welsh_Poetry_-_Part_I_Cynghanedd_-by-Welshbard
Popular Poetry Forms: http://popularpoetryforms.blogspot.com/2013/01/rhupunt.html
HERE’S MY ATTEMPT:
Yellow Day
Yellow’s my mood, which would allude to how I’ve viewed a summer’s day.
‘Though simplified, it has implied what I can’t hide: I want to play.
© Copyright RJ Clarken, 2013
So, now I’ve just Rhu’punted’ the poetic ball to you. Are you game?
Ready? Set? Start poeming! ~RJ
MARIE ELENA CATCHES THE PUNT:
FIVE AND DIME
Women’s house coats, puddle sail boats, Thermos® lunch totes, aprons (frilly),
Ten-cent laces, pencil cases, flower vases, Wooly Willy.
Good-n-Plenty, spend a penny, comics, many very funny!
Party favors, sweet Life Savors (just five flavors), Bit-O-Honey.
Penny candy sure was dandy, Just ask Randi! She would know it!
Just old time’n, Five-n-Dime’n, fun’n rhymin’ In-Form Poet!
© Copyright Marie Elena Good, 2013
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
DEMISE OF A SUNFLOWER SEED
The chickadee flies to the tree to presently attack his seed,
there not to dwell. He slits the shell; the meat is well and surely treed.
copyright 2013, William Preston
Well done! (Applauds!). 😃
Aww! You’ve captured the little chickadee’s eating habits perfectly.
Thanks, both of you. It occurs to me that the last line might work better if “surely” is replaced by “truly.”
I love the birdie poems. Thanks for this, Bill. I love my chickadees and titmice.
I love birds too, and love to write about them. Which reminds me. I have been working on the following, trying not to be indelicate or insensitive:
BUT THEY’RE NOT CALLED THAT IN BRITAIN
Blue and great tits rarely mate; tits fly so late; tits here, if you please,
are not called tits here. No, the wits here; call what flits here, chickadees.
copyright 2013, William Preston
Well, there should be no semi-colon in the second line. See? I’ve been working on this so much, I can’t see things anymore, y’see.
Anything about birds attracts me eye. This is an adorable little piece, Will – well done!!
This form looks like a hoot! Your example set the tone for my attempt, RJ, and your sheer pleasure comes through, ME. It occurs to me that there are fewer and fewer of us, though, who know what a “five and dime” was.
NB, it looks like the form’s customary couplets will cause a lot of lines to wrap owing to space limits on this site’s template.
So true, on all accounts.
Yes. The form will get lost here. Bummer. Walt and I both like this template, with the exception of all the lost space. We’ve both tried to fix it, but to no avail.
How fun. Love both of your examples. I’ll have to do another (or two) on the morrow. I am assuming that with stanza’s 3-4, then 5-6, the final rhyme is other than the first ‘B’ – or are all stanza’s ( however many) to have the last rhyme with “B”?
The night is dark,
time for a lark,
two kids in park,
who should be home.
They watch the moon,
hear a soft tune,
an invite to spun,
two all alone.
The heart is light,
the moon is bright,
time is not right.
It’s time to stop.(roam)
The night is late,
they must wait,
for another date
tonight’s too hot.
(that will come)
Marjory, your poem is also a lovely nostalgic take! From what I read, each stanza has 16 syllables, 4 per line. The first three lines of each stanza end rhyme with each other (but do not, usually with subsequent stanzas.)
However, the fourth line is the ‘B’ line and rhymes with all the 4th (or ‘B’) lines that might follow.
Of course, one could always break a few rules here and there as poetic license dictates. 😃
A lovely nostalgic take, for certain! I especially love your first stanza. It says it all. 🙂
I agree with Marie, on every particular! 😀
This is so much fun to read. It’s nostalgic, as RJ and ME say, but also funny, especially the “tonight’s too hot” line. It doesn’t fit the form perfectly, but to me, it works anyway.
PENALTY
The actor, Lunt, once pulled a stunt that made him hunt for some cover:
the foolish man upstaged Fontanne, who placed a ban on her lover.
copyright 2013, William Preston
Brilliant! And as a theatre maniac, I doubly applaud your poetic performance!
Thank God for google. 😉
Ditto. Bill, you’re a Fontanne of knowledge 😉
LOL!!!
HA!
Love this!!
Clever, William!
Whoops! Here’s the right version:
After Blackberry Picking
We’re cut and scratched, all torn and patched, with burrs attached; but we’re merry,
And smiling big; we’ll dance a jig, cool water swig; yes, we’re merry;
We’ll tell you why: we found nearby, and picked to pie, some ripe berries;
They’re plump and black, and hard to track, but we’ll go back for blackberries!
© Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013
What a yummy & sweet poem. Now I want to go berry picking!
Forget the picking, I’ll jump straight to the pie, please;)
Haha, I so agree!!
Thanks, RJ! It’s a lot of work and pain, but it’s worth it. 🙂
Delicious, Erin Kay! And I removed your “oops.” 😉
Oh thank you, Marie Elena! ❤
Oh, wonderful job! It recalled a sing for me, too:
http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/t/tennessee_ernie_ford/blackberry_boogie.html
That is such a cute song! Thanks for sharing, and thanks for your comment! 🙂
a very tasty poem indeed, Erin.
😀
Marie – I totally ❤ what you did with the form! How much nostalgic fun is that!?!
😀 !
Nighttime Blues
What is it about the night that deepens fright, blurs black and white into shades of gloomy grey?
Why in the dark does each recalled remark, loom and spark a tinderbox of dismay?
I toss and turn, troubles churn, gnawing cares burn and confidence whittled away.
Until light of morn puts troubles to scorn, brings peace to adorn, as I fall to my knees and pray.
I must say that I can’t imagine a more beautifully penned Rhupunt, Debi. Your second stanza is perfection in form, message, and creativity. And you end with hope. LOVE this. Love it.
Thanks Marie.
Elegant. That’s the main word I can think of to describe this. As RJ noted, “tinderbox of dismay” is a superb phrase, a poem all its own. Wonderful.
Thanks William
This is stunningly beautiful, Debi! Love it!
Beautiful, Debi.
Fun from RJ – Marie, ya brought back memories with your take, cute!
drat, form, RJ
But, fun from RJ works as well. Eh? 😉
Absolutely! : )
Thanks Deb – and I love your elegant, atmospheric vision of the Rhupunt. You worked the internal rhyme in with alliteration and deep feeling just beautifully. ‘A tinderbox of dismay…’ is awesome!
awesome – that’s better than a wow ; )
An Aesop’s Fable
Tortoise’s pace won’t take the race but just in case, I would not bet
on speedster hares, (which one compares in race affairs) – they’ve not won yet.
A Quest of Sorts
Diogenes …said, “If you please, on lands or seas – where are the men
of honest mien? I have not seen but one good bean. Must look again.”
In the Crease
I shoulda known I’d lose my phone. I feel alone sans that device.
I dropped it where? Down in the chair? Oh gosh – I swear – that’s happened thrice!
(…okay – and one last Rhupunt, ’cause, yeah, I’m having fun with this little form. Although, I have to admit I wrote the above poems last week when I started playing around with the form.)
Baroque Bach Mountain
I heard Baroque played ‘neath an oak. It did evoke a vision of
ol’ J.S. Bach who ‘worked’ the glockenspiel ad-hoc, and sang of love.
RJ, your red quartet (referencing your logo in these examples) shows again your skill, humor, and erudition. Just a marvellous grouping. The last one broke me up, and I couldn’t leave it alone:
PROLIFIC
Old J.S. Bach was none to mock: hard as a rock, he was hot-wired
to play around with sex and sound; his tunes confounded all he sired.
Oh Bravo, Sir William! Methinks this may be the start of a thread. 😀
Or a threat, mayhap?
Apropos of nothing: as I speak them, some words, such as “wire” and “fired,” come out as two distinct syllables and, hence, violate the form. Other people seem to say them as one-syllable words, to my ear (which isn’t much: I need hearing assistance). I suppose I could claim feminine rhymes as endings, but it made me wonder.
Just use your inner Ogden Nash (meaning whatever you choose to make it work will do!) 😀
Composing Themselves
Young Mozart quipped, “I’ve oft-times sipped in B flat. Ripped was I!” (A myth.)
And Beethoven would shoot a gin e’er he’d begin to play the ‘Fifth.’
Hmmmm… cold one buy a fifth in those days?
Good question. Oh well, gotta love the anachronisms, huh?
Oh, yes.
Your little rhupunt made me think that jazzmen weren’t the only soused musicians in history.
RJ, you are truly amazing! All of these are so gosh darn good!
SETTLING DOWN
In autumn’s gold I feel consoled; no threat of cold can pall my mood;
the scents and sight of purpling night render my fright becalmed, subdued.
copyright 2013, William Preston
NB: this form tends to encourage humor (at least to me) because of its short lines and close-ordered rhymes. This is an attempt to write something more sedate and wistful; I’m inspired by Debi’s work here.
,,,then Deb was a clever muse. Really lovely.
Lovely William
Oh, I just love Autumn’s gold…beautiful, William!
…And speaking of anachronisms…(even if they both occurred in Vienna…)
Bidin’ My Time (with a Metronome)
I heard that Haydn did some chidin’ (woe betidin’) to G. Mahler.
“That seems absurd. There’s no curse word that was conferred!” ~Haydn scholar.
Great again. Your rhyming reminds me of Willard Espy’s book, Words to Rhyme With.
I thought that title sounded familiar….
http://www.songlyrics.com/ruby-braff/bidin-my-time-lyrics/
Remind me never to enter a poetry slam with you two, RJ and Bill. You’re both fantastic! I’m slammed.
You ain’t-a-kiddin’, Jane! Man-o-man alive!!
😀 !!!
Thanks, though I must admit, I don’t know what a “slam” is. Your work is so good all the time, Jane; this is indeed a high compliment.
We used to do the spontaneous “slam” much as you two are doing here, poets responding to or outdoing another poet. Call it live poetic banter. Other slams are orchestrated, each poet performing a prepared poem. Are there other kinds of slams out there, friends?
He
He’s everywhere
With love so rare
Yours sins to bear
Jesus is King
Why do you wait
Gamble on fate
It’s not too late
He’s everything
© 2013 Earl Parsons
Your first and last lines are like bookends. Alpha and Omega, if you will.
Lovely truths…
Waits
The gift of age
Regarded sage
Flipped the last page
The family waits
A life lived long
Lived to God’s song
No longer strong
The Reaper waits
© 2013 Earl Parsons
Grandpa’s Tales
When only three
While on his knee
Grandpa told me
His childhood tales
With tales so dear
My turn is here
Grandchildren near
Our tales unveil
© 2013 Earl Parsons
Earl – this one so reminds me of my grandfather when I was a little girl!
I love the cyclic story you tell here.
So do I!
Good work, Earl. Each and every entry.
The humming-bird: her wings are heard. It is absurd; perhaps I lie!
But since I see her wings so free, their whizzing be a stormy sigh.
Brrrrrightly told!
I ♥ this!
Awww! Nice!
So sweet! Hummingbirds are adorable…
Whispering Clouds
How many spilled whispers can fill blue sky, and will my ears, shrill, hear
the sighs of clouds, laced wings like shrouds, and ringing loud, wisp voice so clear.
Mystically beautiful – love it!
Reads like a sigh; so well done.
Lovely (whispering) poetic voice!
Indeed!
Recently accused of this very thing, I admit I’m guilty as charged.
COMMUNICATION NATION
People walking, voices squawking, always talking, glued to their phones.
Endless chatter, senseless patter. Eardrums shatter from vapid tones.
© Susan Schoeffield
Ouch. Too true!
Oh yes, I’ve been accused too. It’s so true what you say here, Susan.
Thanks, Erin! I only wish I was less like the people I wrote about!
Bingo!
Just perfect.
Thanks!
Form
Create a rhyme, poem sublime; yes, take some time to follow form.
It’s rarely me with form you see, but now with glee I leave my norm.
I love this one!
Not one
Potato chip, a milk shake sip, a silly quip, never just one—
I’ll make a bet you’ll try and yet (caught by their net) you’re never done.
After thing about it, I think the last words should be “not soon done.”
Not one
Potato chip, a milk shake sip, a silly quip, never just one—
I’ll make a bet you’ll try and yet (caught by their net) you’re not soon done.
Thinkng, not thing. Duh.
You did well with both, but I like this first one the best.
I agree.
I love both of these!
A KITE TALE
My tiny kite took off in flight to reach the height of clear blue skies.
Its string unwound, it hit the ground, my spirits drowned by its demise.
© Susan Schoeffield
I can see this! And the cadence is perfection.
Same thoughts, here.
Yeah, they totally echo my thoughts!
FAIRY TALE
I imagine
there’s a dragon
with a wagon
in his big cave.
The hero shows
with swords and bows
to end all woes
and show he’s brave.
But when he sees
the dragon, he’s
swayed by its pleas.
And with a wave
He says good bye
with tear filled eye
and with a sigh
resigns to knave.
Quite creative, Linda! Funny where our brains will take us on any given prompt, isn’t it?
Oh, this is too too sweet, Linda! I adore fairy tales, this kind included. 😉 Have you ever read The Reluctant Dragon, by Kenneth Grahame? I think you’d like it.
This is what would happen if the beamish boy left the Jabberwock alone. Lovely, touching little tale.
THE MICROWAVABLE BOX
It’s not Fort Knox, it’s just a box with cardboard locks that won’t be pried.
I rip and tear and get nowhere, its longed-for fare remains inside.
© Susan Schoeffield
Oh no! LOL!
Drat the @#$&%***@#@# things. Excellent job on the form.
Morning Run
A fighter jet and rainbow met, unknown, and yet pure grace in sky
Both arcing curves, neither did swerve, their glory served delighted eyes.
Pure beauty and grace!
Lovely imagery here, Hen!
Superb picture-making.
Thank you, friends, it was a magical visual… made my run complete!!
Lovely, Hen!
THE ROSE
A garden grows a fragrant rose and in its throws, it will beguile.
Aromas rare enrich the air, as if to dare a frown to smile.
© Susan Schoeffield
One of my favorites of the day. Nice!!
Thanks for all your comments, Marie Elena. RJ gave us a fun and challenging form to work with!
Beautiful picture of a beautiful flower!
Thank you!
“dare a frown to smile”…. Great phrase! Lovely work.
Thank you for all your comments to my Rhupunts (Repunties?). They mean a lot to me.
😀
RJ, I love this form–it does make you want to play. Marie, your ‘sample’ is amazing–chocked full of (raisins of) wit.
Trumpet
Though his hiney is not tiny by design, he’s elegant;
he can plunder without blunder, run like thunder, elephant.
Thanks, Jane!
And yours? WHAT FUN!!!
Wow! “… by design he…” Willard Espy would love this. So do I.
After the “Business Trip”
Although he tries to fashion lies, his alibis aren’t up to snuff.
She lets him spin, admires his grin, he cannot win—she’s had enough.
He tries a joke, a wink to stoke her humor—blokes can be obtuse.
She knows the truth, his fragile youth is gone forsooth—he is a goose.
For recompense, he knows that thence daily expense will win her smile.
Flowers and card, he’s working hard, but her regard may take a while.
Ruh roh …
Hehehe…serves him right! 😉
You put great spin on this gander. I love the felicity with which you work in the rhymes, even so closely spaced, and they don’t feel forced.
Thanks, friends. Bill, rhymes are like titles for me, elusive and therefore pure gift. If one arrives that works, it’s like seeing an old friend I’ve never met. Such good poems here with this form.
The Malamute
Says Malamute a fine woo woo to me and you, waves plumed tail.
Likes work and play, pulls sleds all day, likes us to stay, he’ll treat us well.
A wolf-like face, with strength and grace, will keep the pace and eat a lot.
He’ll dig a hole, he likes it cold, he’s big and bold, just watch the pot.
You sound like you speak from experience, Connie. Yes?
no, research, but we will meet some in Alaska
Oh, how cool! 🙂
Well…. yeah….. it’s Alaska…..
Sounds like my kind of dog…and so pretty!
Nicely put, form and all.
All these are so clever and fun to read. Great job everyone!
I Dreamt
I dreamt of cake
I’d like to bake,
but then I wake
to humid heat.
Bye-bye icing
thick, enticing.
It is stifling,
too hot to eat.
I dreamt of cake I’d like to bake, but then I wake to humid heat.
Bye-bye icing, thick, enticing. It is stifling, too hot to eat.
Awww! Bye-bye icing!
Thanks, Erin; good one, William.
I know how you feel… 😉 This is great, Sara.
Thanks, Erin.
You iced the form….
Yum! 😀
Thank you, everyone… I so enjoy sharing our pleasant company here 🙂 !!
CONTENTMENT
When comes sundown across the town, I cannot frown at end of day;
though weak and weary I am near to all that’s dear and, come what may,
I face sunrise without surmise: my loved one’s eyes will light my way.
copyright 2013, William Preston
POETIC FORMS
Some poets think that forms, they stink; one should not drink in straitjackets.
I disagree: forms seem, to me, new ways to see in fresh packets.
copyright 2013, William Preston
To quote a fabulous poet I know–Bingo! Contentment is just that and Poetic Forms tells it like it is. There is no such thing as a formless poem. Free verse is still a form as is Blank, and a thousand others. But my favorite brain tease is “drink in straitjackets”. Logistically, I’ll worry that for a day or two ;). Great job, Bill!
Thanks, Jane. I think I know what you mean about rhymes and titles. One of my rhyming heroes is Lorenz Hart, of Rodgers and Hart, who did lyrics for clever songs such as Mountain Greenery. I was playing around with a rhupunt about him, and came up with most of the rhymes on my own, but the ending rhymes on the lines seemed to come from nowhere, or maybe from old Larry himself:
LORENZ HART
His magic rhymes defined his times, as deep-throat chimes describe Big Ben;
his words were funny, often punny, but not one limned a pigpen.
copyright 2013, William Preston
🙂 You’re a composer at heart…