… AND THE WINNER IS…

One of the most fun times I’ve had out here as a host was daily watching the polls as votes were being cast in our 2013 National Poetry Day contest – our very first contest ever!

With 54 of 117 votes, the clear winner is  I Had an Inkling Lurking There, by Hannah Gosselin!  Congratulations, Hannah!  You will soon receive an autographed copy of Robert Lee Brewer’s Solving the World’s Problems, a Press 53 publication.

Many thanks to all who participated – whether submitting, reading, or voting.  We just might have to do this again sometime. 😀

Though the voting is now closed, you may view poll results by clicking “view results” at the bottom of this poll :

IN-FORM POET WITH RJ CLARKEN – TRIOLET SONNET

Because so many of you are Sonneteers AND so many of you are fans of the Triolet, here’s a hybrid kind of poem for this week’s challenge. Oh yes! See, you all know how certain words can be portmanteau? (Gosh, I love that word!)
Well, that noun/adjective was tailor-made made for this particular form.
Yikes, you say. But fear not, because I know you are up to the task – and besides, it’s fun!

So, here goes: According to Terry Clitheroe’s The Poets Garret ,
Whilst looking at the structure of the Triolet it was realized that if two stanzas were added together with the two refrain lines being the link there would be an octave and a sestet: a natural Sonnet.

The rhyme pattern becomes: A. B. a. A. a. b. A. B. a. A. a. b. A. B.

It would work with the A & B lines being completely repeated or just a phrase or just the rhyme word repeated. The a and b are of course just standard rhyme. There is no set syllable count, although eight syllables is common with most of the French forms.

Got that?

Good!

Here are a couple of examples by yours truly…

Forget I Mentioned the Spork

Twirling pasta with just a fork?
It neglects the job of the spoon.
You might consider an odd spork,
but it’s shy of being a fork
or spoon. Besides, it lacks the torque
you get with each. A spork’s immune
to twirling well, unlike the fork
which, when based (and twirled) on a spoon,
in concert works. Don’t be a dork:
Twirl your pasta with spoon AND fork
(and forget I mentioned the spork.)
If pasta’s messy, please festoon
your place setting (beneath your fork)
with napkins, along with your spoon.

###

Knapsacks

Inside my daughter’s blue knapsack
there’s more beside her books. There’s stuff
like make-up, and yesterday’s snack…
…but wait! There’s more in her knapsack.
A strange note from some boy named Jack,
a broken bracelet (called a cuff),
some crumpled papers and a sack
of old gym clothes. But there’s more stuff.
A letter home from Missus Mack
awaits retrieval from ‘Knapsack
of Doom.’ How does she stay on track?
I tell her, “This is quite enough.”
She laughs and dumps out her knapsack
and shrugs. “My brother’s got MORE stuff.”

###

Obviously, I’ve taken a light tone (as is generally my way) but despite the rhyme, you can use this form to express a wide array of events, emotions and stories. So, I’m gonna stuff all my ‘stuff’ into my portmanteau (or knapsack) and wait to see what you do with this form.

Ready…Set…Start poeming!

MARIE ELENA’S TRIOLET SONNET ATTEMPT

Pipe Down. I’m Trying to be Thoughtful.

Hush now. Hush … I’m trying to write,
Which takes a lot of thought, you know.
I’ve got to keep my goal in sight.
Hush now. Hush … I’m trying to write.
I’m trying hard to be polite,
But need to focus brain cells, so
Hush now. Hush … I’m trying to write.
This takes a lot of thought, you know.
Don’t want a brawl; don’t want to fight.
HUSH now. HUSH … I’m TRYING to WRITE!
I’m NOT annoyed. I’m NOT uptight.
My stack is NOT about to blow!
But you MUST HUSH … I’m trying to write,
And that takes THOUGHT, I’ll have you know!

© copyright 2013, Marie Elena Good

WALT SNEAKS IN AGAIN TRIOLET

In The Night

In the night, she calls my name
to warm and comfort her, in the night.
It feels so right as our hearts inflame
in the night. She calls out my name
and I know things will never be the same,
no beacon will ever burn so bright,
in the night, she calls out my name
to warm and comfort her. In the night,
distance comes between us and it’s a shame.
In the night, she calls my name
and yet I will be close by; a player in true love’s game
lifting our hearts to the highest heights.
In the night, she calls my name
to warm and comfort her, in the night.

© copyright 2013, Walter J Wojtanik