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 (http://www.thepoetsgarret.com/celtic1.html) 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.
###
MARIE ELENA’S lAmE FRESLIGHE
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
MARIE ELENA’S ANTI-AE FRESLIGHE
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
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
RJ, wonderful job, both with the prompt and with your examples. You rock!
Marie, you are too funny! Love both of your “complaints”. 😉
Completely agree with Erin. You Marie, RJ and William are superb craftsmen.
Thanks! ♥
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
Begorrah! I think you’ve got it!
Thanks, William. 🙂
This flows beautifully, Erin! So earthy feeling.
Yes! Oh, how I wish I could write such a difficult form to flow so beautifully. Good for you, Erin Kay!
But I just love your “Seussish” poem! (I am a huge fan of Dr. Seuss)
Thank you much, Marie! I really appreciate your words. ❤
Thank YOU!
Oh thank you, Hannah! This form was a bit tricky, so I’m glad you think so. 🙂
So lovely. You seem able to do any form easily.
Thank you, Debi! This one was pretty difficult, though.
This is golden-red – and lovely!
You all triumphantly obey the form. but I have to say that my favourite is ME’s rebellious one; iambs and other dainty feet forever!
Teeheehee! Thanks Viv! 😀
THEY BE BEASTS
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
Ha ha ha – love it William.
My mother would agree 100%! 😀
Bwahahahahahaha!
IN YEARS PAST,
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
This makes me so sad. I can’t even describe it.
😦 Beautifully written though, Bill. You’ve done the form justice.
Indeed, and so well written.
As a side note, did you know that plovers are sometimes called Dentist Birds? They have a symbiotic relationship with Egyptian crocodiles, whose teeth they clean. In return, they get some food (albeit second-hand) and don’t get eaten. 😀
I wrote a long poem-story about it a few years back. My son helped. ♥
Here’s my modest attempt:
Centipede
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
This breaks me up, just picturing it. Great!
This is such a kick!! Fun, Andra!
Modest? Modest, nothin’! This is darling!
Love this Andra, my grandkids would think this is so much fun!
Thank you, everyone! I’m glad you liked it! I was laughing as I wrote it, imagining a centipede gone wild – maybe that’s why I was unable to perfectly stick to the prescribed form. 😛
I totally love this bike-riding centipede!
BY THEIR FRUITS
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
I love to say, “apple-shrapnel,” it’s when my three year old chews up and spits out apple. :)!
Love it, Hannah! LOL!!
Bill, you are on a roll! Keep it up!
Awwwww…and guess what? Now they have grapples (grape + apple.) We have them in our ‘fridge. But fortunately, no gronions.
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.
Oh, garsh …
LOL
ESSENCE
Passion is not affable
and, sometimes, not in fashion.
Omit it? Oh, laughable:
there is no life sans passion.
copyright 2013, William Preston
As you might say, this is spot on!
He soitenly did!
True that!
Love it. Perfect!
ALWAYS IN THE AIR
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
I really enjoy how often you think of birds, Bill. Great thoughts stated well.
Absolutely. And I’m so impressed with how many of these gosh darn things you can pump out so beautifully. I’m impressed!
Me too. You are a perfect poetic marvel machine, William.
Add me to your *huge* admiration society!
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
I don’t care for any of those dishes, but your near-rhymes bring me nearer to giving them another try.
Yeah…I’m with William on this one! 😀
Mmmmmmm … you got me … 😉
Wonderful Connie. “Always gold in Ketchikan But not the kind that glitters” is great.
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?
This one cracks me up.
😀 !!
Wish I had that nanny when the kids were small. Come to think of it…
FROM DAWN TO DUSK
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
Utterly lovely; could be a lullaby.
I agree with your sentiment, Susan…and such a soothing rhythm to this poem.
This is gorgeous, Susan, and flows so nicely. Well done!
Beautiful. Really, beautiful!
Ohmigosh – this is just beautiful! I love the beautiful language which creates this scene.
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
This is a truly beautiful tribute!
Yes, indeed.
Beautiful story!
Awww, Earl … you hopeless romantic, you. 🙂 Love it!
This makes me smile – big.
Wow! What an ode. What a love story!
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.
I’ve read this four times now; probably will read it four more. Just love it.
Thank you so much William. 🙂
Oh, wow! Michelle…I love that your main theme is echoed in my poem where I speak of the mountainous precipice! I never read first and look at that happy-accident, (or coincidence)!
Oh, wow. This is just gorgeous! I’m with Bill … I already read it twice, and plan to read it more.
I had to read this several times too. This is amazing. “…no, never enough mountains.” I’m in awe.
I read this and immediately started reading again. This definitely is one to read again and again. Lovely
[…] IN-FORM POET WITH RJ CLARKEN – Ae FRESLIGHE […]
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.
Your beauty and wisdom (and that of the poem) make me smile warmly. ❤
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!
[…] week’s form at the 11/20/13 Poetic Bloomings “In-Form Poet with RJ Clarken” is the Ae freslighe (pronounced “ay fresh lee”). Each stanza is a quatrain of seven […]
A Thanksgiving ditty for you.
Thanks
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.
Your ending threw me a bit; it drew my mind to the unlucky and the many. I smell a bit of “sneaky fast” here. I don;t know if you intended that or not, but it does make this poem memorable and invites re-readings. Great work.
I agree on your ending…I like that it carries a wisdom.
It sure does. Love this, Jane!
Everything is two-edged. Thank you for reminding me. Wisdom here.
What a terrific Thanksgiving poem! Gorgeous – and true!
I hope I never see this form again!
Land of the Red Queen
I have a great obsession
for a land known as Wonder.
Please treat this with discretion,
great to look up from under.
Now, now… Wondrous little poem.
Hear, hear! 🙂 (But I’m with you, Sara. RJ sure did challenge us with this one! RJ ROCKS!!)
Thank you! It’s my job to keep you all on your toes! hehehe
Thanks, William.
You may loathe the form, but it apparently suits you. Most excellent poem!
At least you tried and accomplished. I wasn’t able to but am loving those works of the ones who met RJ’s challenge head on and with such skill.
Thanks, one of my poorer efforts.
RJ, you sure did give us a challenge this week! Your examples totally ROCK, as do you!!
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?)
Bingo!
Yes!!!!!
🙂
Marie – you are too brilliant for words. Well, kinda. We are poets, after all. But still…I tip my hat to you!
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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