INFORM POETS – HEXSONNETTA
The HexSonnetta, created by Andrea Dietrich, consists of two six-line stanzas and a finishing rhyming couplet with the following set of rules:
Meter: Iambic Trimeter
Rhyme Scheme: a/bb/aa/b c/dd/cc/d ee
Iambic Trimeter means the usual iambic (alternating unstressed/stressed) meter for every line of the poem, but instead of the ten syllables that comprise a typical sonnet’s iambic pentameter, this particular form uses six syllables of iambic trimeter per line. Thus, the name HexSonnetta. The first part of the form’s name refers to the syllable count per line. The second part of the name, Sonnetta, is to show this to be a form similar to the sonnet, yet with its shorter lines and different rhyme scheme, it is not the typical sonnet. Not only does this poem have six syllables per line, it also has a set of two six-line stanzas, giving an extra “hex” to the meaning of HexSonnetta. The rhyme scheme is a bit of a mixture of the two traditional sonnet types, with the two 6-line stanzas having more the rhyme scheme of an Italian sonnet, but with the ending rhyming couplet being the featured rhyme scheme of the English sonnet. The first stanza presents the theme of the poem, with the second stanza serving to change the tone of the poem, to introduce a new aspect of the theme or to give added details. The final couplet, as in an English sonnet, can be either a summary (if the theme is simple) or it could be the resolution to a problem presented in the theme. In any event, it should nicely tie together the whole piece and could even appear as a nice “twist” presented at the end.
WALT’S HEXSONNETTA:
THE END OF SEASONS
As Autumn starts to fall
a chill returns to stay.
The wind comes out to play,
you hear her howl to call
to creatures great and small,
farewell to Summer’s days.
A pall surrounds the night,
the shroud of darkness, black
as shadows that attack
and cover all in sight.
Quite soon the bitter bite
of Winter will come back.
The end of seasons come.
It draws us close to home.
Copyright © 2014 Walter J Wojtanik
A HEXSONNETTA FOR THE FALL
The skies are purple now
and orange rules the land;
it flashes, high and grand,
from trees that now allow
the fruit of every bough
to flee to earth, as planned.
The leaves all play with air
as they depart each tree,
for now they all are free
from bondage, leaving bare
the limbs that held them there:
transient majesty.
I hear creation crying
as brilliance flies here, dying.
copyright 2014, William Preston
The last couplet is divine.
Lovely
A brilliant death indeed – your poem flows with color and light, William…a joy to read, for me. 🙂
How lovely this poem flows, with a perfect couplet to finish.
Color Drive
We packed a lunch that day
And piled into the van
To see the leaves, our plan
Gold, orange, red array
The mountains on display
Enjoy them while we can
We reached the lake up top
We took the beauty in
But cold cut to the skin
So we lopped short our stop
The picnic was a flop
The drive was still a win
And so we had our fill
And went back down the hill
disappointing picnic but lovely drive.
Quite so.
Hyperbole
“The superfluous, a very necessary thing.” ~Voltaire
“I don’t exaggerate,”
he noted, with an air
of self-importance. “There
are few who share this trait:
(I doubt if you’d relate)
but, rather, like Voltaire,
who’s known for polemics,
satirically speaking
(but not status seeking)
I trounce academics
with word calisthenics.
I defy critiquing.”
O superfluous king:
you defy everything.
###
Outstanding RJ
Some marvellous verbal gymnasticry is going on here.
With a wryness unmatched, an outstanding, clever poem.
Night Terrors
The wide palm of midnight
(where cosmic roads abound
where eerie silence sounds
where stars pulsate with light
where hopes and dreams ignite}
sits like an emperor’s crown
atop the head of fate.
(Capricious in extreme
a thousand and one schemes
each of glorious weight
alas, too late, too late
no last reprieve it seems.
Fate, with a careless fist,
crushes all hope to grist.
Wow. The elevated language makes the fist all the heavier, in my opinion. Marvellous.
Thank you, William very much
I love the otherworldly galactic crown you’ve described and excellent closing lines as well, Debi.
Supberb ending couplet, Debi!
The Fall of Summer
Majestic in the sun
she preened her emerald leaves
so ready to receive,
wanting to be undone.
She heard him whisper, Come;
she wanted to believe.
The tree is blushing now
as she peels off her clothes
with every breath that blows;
seducing every bough
is the wind’s empty vow:
to warm her in the throes
of winter’s icy kiss
left frozen on her lips.
Your first word describes this poem.
Absolutely!
Ah, this is lovely.
Pick-Up Artist
“Some folks never exaggerate — they just remember big.” ― Audrey Snead
“Who’s da man?! Who’s da man?!”
he proclaimed, in a gloat.
He would often promote
his love skills as more than
Ol’ Don Juan’s. His game plan?
Quote , La Conquest. Unquote.
An impresario
of romance? I think not.
Ego was his blind spot.
Tepid lothario
with each scenario,
all those ‘efforts’ for naught.
So, gratification?
Big exaggeration.
###
Ah, yes; a perfect squelch.
Learned
Beryllium is ‘4’
of periodic chart.
I know that, so I’m smart.
But I know even more
‘bout Heisenberg and Bohr,
and dudes like R. Descartes.
I’m knowledgeable on
lots of things, like diphthongs.
I’ve memorized some songs
and Latin? Sine qua non.
On maps, I’ll find Bhutan.
There’s trees called ‘jelutongs.’
I’m so very clever –
bestest student ever!
###
Wonderful. Bet you even went to Kay Kyser’s Kollege of Musical Knowledge. I love this.
The Moon Spilled
The moon spilled over shoulders
of lovers this fall night.
They held each other tightly.
Although tonight was colder
than last, he did enfold her,
and warmth spread, from her knight.
Their lips disclosed a fire
that burned within, a lust.
A drink, a laugh, a trust,
a hope that their desire
would lift them ever higher
and not burn out or rust.
Alas, their spouses caught them
and oh, the shame it brought them.
Ooooh. Spot on.
Thanks, William.
Your ending was unexpected and caused me to smirk, Sara! Love the contrast of cold and hot that fluctuates within your poem.
Thanks so much, Hannah.
MENDING
Stitching holes of my day
with wholesome thoughts and words
spying play of green birds
that sing of pink in grays
that solder sun in lays
then catch the breezy girds
To glow in kerneled moon
that peeks in lotus lakes
and traces blue opaque
hushing purring black plumes
in velvet starry runes
and soothes my inner ache
I gather these ink links
to have and hold, then sink—-
I love this, especially “ink links” and “velvet starry runes.”
LIVE IN THE MOMENT
It’s foolish letting time
Escape to parts unknown,
A fault that’s ours alone
Because we set our minds
Ahead or far behind
This moment we are shown.
It’s wise to live the now.
Ignore what’s not yet born.
Forget the vanished dawn.
I tell you this is how;
To this you ought best vow:
Why let time pass, then mourn?
Oh, live for all it’s worth,
Each moment be your birth!
For me, this recalls some Zen admonitions, such as. when you wash the dishes, wash the dishes. Only, this poem says it with more elegance.
GULL ABILITY
A seagull’s insistence
on grabbing attention
by noisy contention
is heard with persistence
while seeking subsistence
with little suspension.
By steely precision,
a steadfast defiance
and cold self-reliance,
it makes its decision
while flaunting derision
at those in compliance.
Through lucrative toils,
the gull claims its spoils.
© Susan Schoeffield
This sounds like you know gulls well. Wonderfully done.
This one delights with the intense ending words – like your topic as well. 🙂
Love the title, topic, and wonderful description In This, Susan.
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Embracing Change
Red spheres of fall berries
they hang where flowers were,
frosted breath – cerise stirs
beckons gold of prairie.
Autumn cold is carried
sky holds snow crystals pure
consuming canopy,
caressed in swathe of white –
kissed – cardinal’s crimson flight.
Defying gravity
this season’s alchemy
a whirling-splendor-sight
held within the wonder
winter’s icy cover.
Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014
Apologies for my meter work…it’s a little sloppy but I had fun writing the form though. 🙂
I think this is precious; the colors bring to mind an Impressionist painting. This poem feels like it is the colors.
Your closing is so true, Walt – winter, a time for drawing in close to home…thank you for the form and your excellent example, too. 🙂