For this week, I thought it might be interesting to go with a quatrain a la seven.  The Ae freslighe (ay fresh lee) is a fascinating, but fairly challenging Celtic poetic form.

As the superb Terry Clitheroe of The Poets Garret ( states:

Ae freslighe: (ay fresh lee):

Each stanza is a quatrain of seven syllables. Lines one and three rhyme with a triple (three syllable) rhyme and two and four use a double (two syllable) rhyme.  The poem should end with the first syllable, word, or the complete line that it began with.

x x x x (x x a)
x x x x x (x b)
x x x x (x x a)
x x x x x (x b)

Here are a couple of examples by moi:

A Walk in the Lark

Whereby, I write humorous,
quirky, offbeat and funny.
My poems are numerous
but don’t make me much money.
Still, I write such laughable
poetry because witty
work makes me feel affable,
but broke, so more’s the pity.
Some say this stuff’s easier
than if I had to rely
on real jobs, but cheesier
simply works for me, whereby.

No Lack of Attention

 “Life is denied by a lack of attention, whether it be to cleaning windows or trying to write a masterpiece.” ~Nadia Boulanger

Whereas, lack of attention
can wreak havoc on pizzazz,
your eyes see no pretension:
you must focus now, whereas…
…create a fine masterpiece,
as your words become soulmate,
clear window, or golden-fleece.
You must focus now.  Create.



Arresting Arrhythmia

I’m against this principle
Of leaving rhythm unfenced.
Rhyme three, then two syllables?
What have I come up against?
Iamb, I love completely
And in her defense I scram
-ble to save her discreetly.
Un-victorious, I am.
© copyright 2013,  Marie Elena Good


Dear Ms. Clarken:

I do not like Ae freslighe, Ma’am.
I do not like her sans iamb.
She messes with my rhythmic ear.
I wish that she would disappear.
I do not like Ae freslighe, Ma’am.
I’d rather eat green eggs and spam.


© copyright 2013,  Marie Elena Good


  1. Just Like It

    In the grass, don’t you see?
    That last bright spot of golden-
    Brown and rust…oh won’t you see?
    In my heart I’m still holdin’

    A small hope, still carrying
    A tiny glimmer of light
    That is never varying:
    One day I’ll see the love light

    In your dark eyes, glimmering
    Like the gold in the plain grass,
    Like the sunlight shimmering
    Through a golden-red stained glass.

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013


    Starlings are such hated birds;
    they are nobody’s darlings.
    Have you seen X-rated birds?
    Then, darling, you’ve seen starlings.

    copyright 2013, William Preston


    plovers lined the brining sea,
    their colors tan, like glovers;
    these days, by the shining sea
    one scarcely can find plovers.

    It used to be, merrily
    they coursed the skies above it;
    today I say, verily,
    if you should see one, love it.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  4. Here’s my modest attempt:


    If I were a centipede
    straded on a bike’s backseat,
    my excitement guaranteed
    and my breath a bit offbeat,
    I would try to be discrete.
    So, my friends, don’t intercede
    and reveal my small deceit –
    the world’s fastest centipede!

    © Andra-Teodora Negroiu, 2013


    I never saw fashion fruit
    unless it be the apple;
    it was the first passion fruit
    and wasn’t served with scrapple.

    Onions? Spare me. Brother, hand
    me hankies while I cry: I
    hate them. On the other hand,
    I’ll never suffer dry eye.

    copyright 20131, William Preston

  6. RJ, I think this form will either work us out or work us over. For me it is tough, but fun. Marie, you may have been the first to give arrhythmia a good name.


    Passion is not affable
    and, sometimes, not in fashion.
    Omit it? Oh, laughable:
    there is no life sans passion.

    copyright 2013, William Preston


    There it goes. I’m wondering
    where albatrosses fly to.
    New horizons, sundering
    the old, and there to die, too?

    Perhaps, in their travelling,
    the air is their refuge; their
    place to rest, unravelling,
    for they meet no deluge there.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  9. Always Gold in Ketchikan

    Always gold in Ketchikan
    But not the kind that glitters
    Help me out and fetch a pan
    I’ll fry up apple fritters

    The salmon is delicious
    The shrimp scampi will enthrall
    And scrumptious baked quail dishes
    You must try then one and all

  10. A trial run. RJ and Marie, you two crack me up. I like my meter consistent too, Marie.

    Controlled Outing

    Margaret, our new nanny,
    took the children to the zoo.
    They were good as they could be.
    Wrapped in Velcro, who needs glue?


    Sunset can be astounding
    in vividly rich pastels.
    With eventide expounding,
    daylight begins its farewells.
    Enthralled by the sensation
    of this sweetly sung duet,
    we marvel at creation
    through the sunrise and sunset.

    © Susan Schoeffield

  12. Kimberly
    (A tribute to my Love)

    On duty mixing masterly
    Measuring careful with jigger
    Looked up and there was Kimberly
    Seeing her made my eyes bigger

    Her face shined bright with loveliness
    Jigger and bottle shook slightly
    Her presence sparked my giddiness
    Her smile brought me pleasure nightly

    But when the night shift concluded
    On separate ways we’d depart
    Until one night I eluded
    I missed her when we were apart

    That night we upped our relations
    Our feelings laid bear on display
    Our future sealed with conviction
    That only death can take away

    © 2013 Earl Parsons

  13. The Song of a Stradivari

    Mountains were not ambitious
    for her to think of scaling;
    Challenges were propitious
    omens from which she’s sailing.

    She made her own commotion
    as she fought her way higher,
    her strength was her devotion,
    an excellence, high flyer.

    Life had become amusing
    while throwing coins in fountains,
    wishes were worth perusing –
    no, never enough mountains.

  14. Pingback: Always Reinventing | Metaphors and Smiles

  15. Always Reinventing
    Dreaming of an animal,
    tigress stalks and rest eludes;
    vine enrapt and tangible-
    she believes it’s a prelude.
    It’s a prodding powerful
    unveiling of true design…
    Resign coat of cowardice
    step into this skin divine.
    Nighttime reveals resentment,
    bitterness inside biting
    whilst joy and true contentment
    it’s behind bamboo hiding.
    She seeks truth and clarity
    passion longs to be uncaged,
    quietude speaks lucidly
    in growls she has grown enraged.
    She’ll awaken practical
    embracing inner-tigress ,
    visions of her animal
    grants this celestial access.
    She chooses this wilder-ness,
    self-realized her soul’s teeming
    with mountainous precipice,
    empowered by such dreaming.
    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2013

    I was inspired by a friend who dreamed of a tiger this week…did a little research on dream meanings, too.

    Thank you for the awesome form RJ and your examples you two!!

    This form really pushed me, (in a good way)!!

    • There are several little plays with (as opposed to on) words going on here that draw my eye and make me pause a bit: “whilst,” for example, and “wilder-ness.” The former is fine (I use it a lot), but the latter is an invention; both, however, are just different enough (in U.S. English, anyway) to slow down my reading and, perhaps, increase my appreciation for the sens of the poem. It’s all a dream, I know, but feels grounded in reality.

      • I’m not sure why I used “whilst,” but yes, “wilder-ness” I’m thrilled that you saw this as an invention! That’s what I was hoping you’d read. Thank you!

        I definitely read into the dream meanings @ the tiger but I also read into my friend’s experience and projected a little, too…I think there’re so many in life that hide their true wild side for fear of the what-ifs and that also resentment can grow in that unfulfilled space.

    • I look for meaning in dreams, too. Not every dream means something but there are those that make you wonder and dig a little deeper. I remember one in particular where I dreamed in pun and “got” it when I awake. I’ve also had recurring dreams that when I really studied on them realized what I was trying to tell myself. Fascinating! I love this, Hannah. I think you’ve shown some good insights here.

    • I’m fascinated by the meanings of dreams, too. I think your words bring forth a kind of clarity that makes the tiger accessible. Brava!

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  17. A Thanksgiving ditty for you.


    I’m counting on my fingers
    all the things I’m grateful for,
    good smells that grow and linger
    pulling people through the door.

    I’m savoring at table
    cornucopias of food,
    like knights humble and able
    knelt before the holy rood.

    Giving thanks with heart and hand
    is the least that we can do,
    for good fortunes often land
    on the lucky and the few.

  18. Do I see your strategy?
    I these syllabic choices
    you fit the math prodigy
    with new poetic voices
    while those who rhyme messily
    and can’t count past their noses
    are blessed by their brevity:
    thus saved from neuroses. (do?)

  19. Marie – you are too brilliant for words. Well, kinda. We are poets, after all. But still…I tip my hat to you!

  20. ALL IN

    Playing polka’s addictive.
    The why is hard to explain.
    In youth I was restricted.
    “No cards!” my mother’s refrain.

    Poker is so relaxing,
    Play a hand and you’ll agree.
    It staves off what’s distracting.
    Toss your chips. Up the ante!

    Since I have been retired
    I love to do the shuffle,
    Then deal, and luck inspired,
    Win pots without a scuffle.

    The joy of Texas Hold ‘em!
    Flop, turn, river –– Who’s paying,
    Who’ll bet or raise or fold ‘em?
    Life’s good when we’re all playing.


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