POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.

INFORM POETS – RONDEL

The rondel is yet another short poetic form that evolved from the songs of medieval French troubadours, using repeated refrain lines to create a circular motion in the poem so that it wraps back around itself. The word “rondel” comes from the French for “little round,” and the French rondel is a fixed form of 13 lines, arranged in two quatrains and a quintet (or in the case of the 14-line rondel prime, two quatrains and a sestet). The first two lines of the first quatrain are the refrain, repeated as the last two lines of the second and third stanzas, and the whole poem uses only two rhymes, following ABba abAB abbaA. The capital letters are the refrains, or repeats.
WALT’S CIRCUIT:

This past Saturday I had attended our 40th Reunion of the Class of 1974 from my alma mater, Lackawanna High School. The response and celebration was wonderful, and seeing old friends and even meeting some classmates for the first time, forty years after we had graduated made for a memorable night. So, inspired by that milestone, here is my Rondel:

REUNION RONDEL

Forty years of memories held dear
as time had found a way to rocket by,
and classmates came to gather with a sigh,
amazed at how quickly that special day drew near.

Familiar faces framed in hues of grey and sere,
wistful eyes that squint to an azure sky,
forty years of memories held dear
as time had found a way to rocket by.

Reunited amidst the hugs and cheers,
friendships that had strengthened by-and-by;
these men and women bound in lifelong ties.
We’ll hold these moments long past leaving here.
Forty years of memories held dear.

© Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

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56 thoughts on “INFORM POETS – RONDEL

  1. A happy Rondel, Walt. I’ve moved around too much ever to have attended a school reunion, but I can imagine yours.

  2. RJ Clarken on said:

    I love this, Walt! My 40th is next year – and if it’s anything like your poem, we’re in for a wonderful time! 😀

  3. Never been to any of my reunions… yours sounds like it was fun.
    Tom Malone

    Tom Malone was a handsome man
    and all the lassies loved his grin
    made the lads want to sock his chin
    he just laughed and away he ran

    right to the arms of bonny Anne
    then kissed the lips of Lady Gwyn.
    Tom Malone was a handsome man
    and all the lassies loved his grin

    Anne clipped him with an iron pan
    and swept his teeth into the bin
    toothless he was to his chagrin…
    though when he didn’t smile a span
    Tom Malone was a handsome man.

  4. William Preston on said:

    TROUBADOUR

    I sing a song of ancient days,
    when knights were bright and love was pure;
    I sing of one whose sole allure
    was beauty, manifest in ways

    more numerous than sun-shone rays
    that grace a vale as if on tour.
    I sing a song of ancient days,
    when knights were bright and love was pure

    and lovers, lost in life’s great plays,
    were wont to revel, swift and sure,
    to confound primogeniture.
    And so, with might that might amaze,
    I sing a song of ancient days.

    copyright 2014, William Preston

  5. William Preston on said:

    It’s good that those ties are lifelong, Walt, and your poem captures well the depth of that feeling.

  6. connielpeters on said:

    The Monsters

    The monsters messed around with me
    They leered and grinned and sang a song
    The tune was off, the words were wrong
    They danced about too clumsily

    They stomped upon my self esteem
    And shattered feelings like a gong
    The monsters messed around with me
    They leered and grinned and sang a song

    They told me lies convincingly
    They said the storms would last too long
    I looked to whom I do belong
    And in the end they had to flee
    The monsters messed around with me

  7. What a greeat party we had tonight
    Sorry if I sound a little high
    It’s just that I hate to say good-bye
    A cup of black coffee and I’ll be all right.

  8. It’s good to get together now and then
    Like in the old days, remembering when
    Life was so simple, we didn;t care
    we thought our friends would always be there
    We believed we could go on
    without a care.

  9. Darlene Franklin on said:

    Walt, I’ve always been afraid of my class reunions. I’m so glad you enjoyed yours.

  10. SEASONED CHOREOGRAPHY

    As gently falling autumn leaves
    begin their final dance,
    their fascinating tale enchants,
    though subtly deceives.

    A complicated story weaves
    throughout the yard’s expanse
    as gently falling autumn leaves
    begin their final dance.

    In graceful moves, each leaf conceives
    to hold us in a trance.
    With this ballet we see, perchance,
    more than the eye perceives
    as gently falling autumn leaves.

    © Susan Schoeffield

  11. WmPreston on said:

    AN AUTUMN REVERIE

    The grapes are purple once again
    and asters vie with goldenrod;
    the rains have softened down the sod
    with sounds that seemed to say, “amen.”

    Now orange glows where green had been
    and hostas all have gone to pod;
    the grapes are purple once again
    and asters vie with goldenrod

    as sunset shimmers on the fen
    and I, like grasses, start to nod
    as all creation hails its god
    in autumn, as it should, for then
    the grapes are purple once again.

    copyright 2014, William Preston

  12. Pingback: Seasoned Choreography | Words With Sooze

  13. A RONDEL THAT WARNS
    OF DECEIT

    Listen to your heart, true words so sweetly
    Told in quiet moments, the whispered voice
    You can depend upon. You have a choice.

    You can pretend that love comes easily,
    Each new affair a reason to rejoice.
    Listen to your heart, true words so sweetly
    Told in quiet moments, the whispered voice.

    Think before you give yourself too freely.
    Beware deceit by those whose love destroys.
    When love is false, what reason to rejoice?
    Listen to your heart, those words so sweetly
    Told in quiet moments, the whispered voice
    You can depend upon. You have a choice.

    #

  14. Pingback: The Loop | Metaphors and Smiles

  15. The Loop

    On this path I’d rambled every day for a week
    with eyes alert for roots and stones
    I barely took notice of fauna or pinecones,
    hoping to avert a fall with accidental feet.

    In preparation for the great-granite-peak
    with boots to break – I’ve delved into a hiking zone
    on this path I’d rambled every day for a week,
    with eyes alert for roots and stones.

    After miles on this trail, suddenly I see…
    now I’ve mastered balance my eyes may roam –
    I visually gather all these bits I’ve missed in earthen loam;
    round a small turn – surprise – a snowy mushroom speaks,
    on this path I’d rambled every day for a week.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014

  16. New Love

    When he spoke of love so gallantly,
    she could feel her melting heart
    beating wildly like the start
    of drumbeats from a melody.

    He took her hand, as if in reverie,
    of his soul, she felt a part.
    When he spoke of love so gallantly,
    she could feel her melting heart.

    He pledged his love tenderly,
    like a lovely work of art.
    Nothing would tear them apart.
    She thought herself in a fantasy,
    when he spoke of love so gallantly.

  17. A Sea Rondel

    You can sense its myth, and smell its sprit
    before you hear its cello band
    its eager roll to meet the sand
    helter skelter rows half slit

    Excitedly with open mitts
    it brings its salt to shifting sands
    you can sense its myth, and smell its sprit
    before you hear its cello band

    A rolling journey waving splits
    wagging, bragging, grabbing strands
    slobbering some happy hands
    no hanging on, reversing knits
    you can sense its myth, and smell its sprit

  18. Darlene Franklin on said:

    DREAMS

    Not so long ago, what dreams were mine
    When days were long and years, forever
    Love and words and music together stir
    With such ingredients, my future must shine

    I packed my hopes in a box of cedar
    And added trinkets found along the line
    Not so long ago, what dreams were mine
    When days were long and years, forever

    The flavors changed, soaked in brine
    Mixed anew by God’s egg-beater
    My birthday cake adds one new layer
    Undone, revised, what taste divine
    Not so long ago, what dreams were mine

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