2022.18 Orbit

CW: Feelings around social difficulties and manipulation. This went a bit emo, from a #WriteClub prompt of “what lies beneath”. I suspect there’ll be a more positive follow-up shortly, though, as I couldn’t fit a proper volta into this form!

What lies beneath the widest smile,
a gaze that meets yours, straight and true,
demeanour crafted to beguile?

Hard not to think it must be you
at fault because you won’t succumb
to eyes that meet yours, straight and true.

You worry when your face feels numb,
and punish your own circumstance,
at fault because you won’t succumb.

You lack the footwork for this dance,
tripping when the rhythms skip
and punish your own circumstance.

No wonder, sometimes, tables flip
when they drag you to the floor,
tripping when the rhythms skip.

You wonder what you came here for,
what lies beneath the widest smile
when they drag you to the floor,
demeanour crafted to beguile.

Image from ADDitude Magazine, an article titled Overstimulated by Life? 20 Ways to Give Your ADHD Senses a Break 

This is another of my yearly traditions: a terzanelle (the first form for which the Concrete and Repeating Poetry Forms Spreadsheet was created).

Masking is tiring, folks. Just because someone’s good at it, doesn’t mean that they’re not feeling the strain. Just saying...

2021.8 Chariot

The Allographic prompt today was to go to Wikipedia’s entry for 8-Apr and pick something to write about. I chose the life of Constantina, which turned out to be quite the ride.

My only worth: a bride-price for a king;
A civilising influence to boot.
(It seems my latter legend holds a sting.)

Depending on your source, I made a suit,
Or else was sent where I could cause less harm
(A civilising influence to boot.)

It seems that older wives can have their charms
For this Augusta made his blood run hot.
(Or else was spent where it could cause less harm.)

But now I’m dead I could be all I’m not,
Some scribe who never met me penning verse
(For this Augusta made his blood run hot.)

And fever stole my breath – it could be worse
My reputation’s made another shift:
Some scribes who never met me penning verse.

From harridan to saint I’ve armed a gift
My former worth: a bride-price for a king;
My reputation’s made another shift –
It seems my latter legend holds a sting.

This is a terzanelle, created using the Repeating Forms tool.

From Wikipedia, arm reliquaire of Saint Constantina, Santa Maria della Scala in Siena,
by © José Luiz Bernardes Ribeiro, CC BY-SA 4.0

(Image description in alt-text.)

2020.15 Narrative

Another April tradition as I try to catch up again (been a bad week): terzanelles.

Although they say bad judgements never cease
(I’m sure that you have plenty – so have I)
You’ll find I’m not the villain of the piece.

Feel free to shout your questions to the sky
You never know what blessings may return
(I’m sure that you have plenty – so have I).

You may well feel frustrated, shocked, and spurned
It’s time to join with those petitioning
You never know what blessings may return.

Now those at fault attempt positioning
With those who called the tune and paid the price
It’s time to join with those petitioning.

A crisis is no reason to be nice
To those who don’t deserve and never will
With those who called the tune and paid the price.

So take your time: make up and pass the bill
Although they say bad judgements shouldn’t cease
For those who don’t deserve and never will
You’ll find I’m not the villein of the peace.

Image source: Aquarian Insight (thanks, Google image search)

2018.9 Hathor Summons Sekhmet

No, nothing was too sacred for our hands
We took their hearts and minds in well-sealed jars
We claimed their graves and claimed to understand

We slowly mapped their place among the stars
And mounted exhibitions of our finds
We took their hearts and minds in well-sealed jars

We sought the wealthy men our way inclined
Whose only fear was having less than all
And mounted exhibitions of our finds

We dug down deep when humbler treasures palled
Bore out to light the ones who lived as gods
Whose only fear was having less than all

And for misfortune we were lightning rods
Crooked flail twisted, hard against our backs
Bore out of light the ones who lived as gods

And now for fame their dust will never lack
Yes, nothing was too sacred for our hands
Crooked flail twisted, hard against our backs
We claimed their graves and claimed to understand

2017.19 - Unobserved

The things I did while no-one was looking
Like peeking inside the old man’s chest
Were only ever so slightly shocking

No-one, unobserved, is quite at their best
In my shoes you might well have done the same
Like peeking inside the old man’s chest

I’ve checked, and I don’t feel the slightest shame
It would never do: to be thought boring
In my shoes you might well have done the same

And no-one with me will be caught snoring
I’m certain of that: I feel quite clear
It would never do: to be thought boring

It’s only alone you can bring yourself cheer
I know that nobody else need know
I’m certain of that: I feel quite clear

Without judgement we all would be much freer
The things I did while no-one was looking
(I know what nobody else need know)
Were only ever so slightly shocking


It’s another of my NaPoWriMo traditions - a terzanelle. Slightly freaking myself out that I’m now starting to find form easier if I’m stuck for a topic, but I’m sure that’ll pass. The first line is a corruption of a line I saw in an image I found when I was looking for something else entirely.

G. K. Jourdane - Things I Did When No One Was Watching

2016.3 Feet of Grey (for @MarionLeeper)

In December, we took #PoetryToGo to Mill Road Winter Fair, and battled gale force winds trying to bring bespoke poetry to a cold, confused crowd of scurrying punters. Guy ropes are only so much good on a pavement, but we were rescued by local storyteller (and cracking poet to boot) Marion Leeper, who brought us nifty marquee feet to borrow, which she helped to fill with water and install. The only recompense she requested was a poem ("just a sillly little one!") about marquee feet. In not-very-good terzanelle form (I kept the rhyme scheme and said "bah" to iambic pentameter), here it is! Thanks, Marion! Hope it was worth waiting for! :D

Where some crave flighty
You take sturdy seriously.
Your reliability makes you mighty.

You observe your duty righteously
In expertise.
You take sturdy seriously.

Eschew the ones who tease -
It's time to show up
Inexpertise.

Tell the rest that they must grow up
To heed the call -
It's time to show up

You lift us strong and tall,
Helping our uncertain hearts
To heed the call.

You exceed the sum of parts;
Where some crave flighty,
Helping our uncertain hearts,
Your reliability makes you mighty

2015.17 - A Message

One from #PoetryToGo - the brief was from talented local storyteller Marion Leeper, who's been joining us for NaPoWriMo this year. She said she wanted to give me a challenge: a terzanelle about political cross-dressing (she'd just been to see a talk by Steve Bell of the Guardian). The poem needed to be put in a party-neutral poster form for Marion's window.

Behold the result:
______________________________

That mannequin you might well label Queen,
But not the one you think that you all know.
(Some people find that sort of thing obscene.)

The time has come to dress up for the show,
To cover up this figure’s ugly fact.
(But not the one you think that you all know)

Although you know this smile is just an act,
You may not see how smoky mirrors serve
To cover up this figure’s ugly fact.

Don’t speak up and you’ll get what you deserve –
The Emperor’s bereft of honest thread –
You may not see how smoky mirrors serve.

Don’t let the bright lights turn your pretty head –
There’s something darker lurking underneath.
(The Emperor’s bereft of honest thread.)

In shiny shoes here comes a heavy tread –
That mannequin you might well label Queen.
There’s something darker lurking underneath.
(Some people find that sort of thing obscene.)

#6 Statute

I don't usually do intros, but this was inspired by visiting the Louvre in Paris recently, and seeing, among other things of beauty (we mostly stuck to the Classical statues - you can't hope to "do" the whole museum in a day), the Venus de Milo. I don't usually do set forms, but NaPoWriMo is all about the challenges, so this is a terzanelle, or approximation thereof.

Love appears to be disarmed
And where she points is empty
By powers absent we are charmed

Antiquity has lost her sentry
Her guards are lost or sleeping
And where she points is empty

By night came thieves in dark and creeping
By day with flags and trumpets bold
Her guards are lost or sleeping

We revere them, sere and cold
Visit them in crowded dreaming
By day with flags and trumpets bold

White or black or gilded gleaming
We come from all across the Earth
Visit them in crowded dreaming

From them we seek to fill some dearth
Love appears to be disarmed
We come from all across the Earth
By powers absent we are charmed