I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

Showing posts with label Maudern cinquain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Maudern cinquain. Show all posts

31 January 2015

Victory

They are all
dead, my husbands, so now I can choose.
Tonight for the Asian Cup
it's Bill I invite
to come watch.

As we did
a long time ago,
late nights with the kids in bed.
'How good is that goalie?' I say now —
then we score.

A tense game,
the Socceroos against Korea,
tied at the last minute
so now we're into
extra time.

It's almost
as good as that match
when underdog Sunderland
won the FA Cup ('73).
Nail-biting!

Like old times,
my soccer-loving second husband
sitting with me here tonight,
barracking with me.
Like old mates.

Countdown's on —
Queensland election —
right now I don't even care.
We get past that goalie one more time,
and we've won!


Note: My late second husband, Bill Nissen, migrated to Australia with his family at the age of 15, from Holland, where he was being groomed to be a goalkeeper for the national soccer team.  In Australia he followed Aussie Rules football but still liked watching the FA Cup on TV.

(This poem consists of a sequence of mirror-image Maudern cinquains, alternating reversed and normal.)

I'm linking this to both dVerse OpenLinkNight and Poets United's Poetry Pantry #238, where you'll find lots of good poems by lots of good poets.


30 January 2015

My Black Cat

My black cat,
my handsome black cat,
the perfect cat for a witch,
is named Levi. His other name is
'familiar'.

When I cast
my magic circle
on the night of the full moon
my black cat is with me, and also
the fairies.

He grows old,
this dear cat. Me too.
Sometimes, when the weather's cold
only the fairies dance, by the light
of the moon.















At dVerse Meeting the Bar this time, Tony Maude invites us to try an extended (or expanded) cinquain with one extra syllable per line than the form invented by Adelaide Crapsey. What this version might be called is still being debated, but the term Maudern cinquain, suggested by one user, is proving popular. Although Tony himself feels it would be arrogant for him to use it. I have no such constraint and am adopting it forthwith. This poem is a sequence of three of them.