WEEKLY POETRY CHALLENGE STARS | No. 193, #PoetsChoice

Posted on by Colleen M. Chesebro
1.Reena Saxena10.Ruth Scribbles19.huwanahoy
2.Elizabeth11.Cheryl20.Vashti Quiroz- Vega
3.Kim12.anita dawes21.Sally Cronin
4.theindieshe13.Goutam Dutta22.Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr
5.Linda Lee Lyberg14.Sue Vincent23.David Ellis / Too Full To Write
6.Padre15.D. L. Finn24.M J Mallon
7.s. s.16.Merril D. Smith25.Jane Dougherty
8.Jules17.Gwen Plano26.Roberta Eaton Cheadle
9.willowdot2118.Pat R27.Colleen Chesebro

Congratulations to everyone who joined in this week! You always surprise me with your creativity and clever poetry! I want to share a few of the forms you used and the poetry to go along with it.

Next year, I want to add some new syllabic forms, including a few with rhyming schemes. This is a challenge after all, and we must continue to challenge and expand our poetic knowledge.

Gouttam Dutta shared an interesting form called the Seox, by Anne Byrnes Smith. It is a hexastich, with a syllable count of 3/7/6/5/4/3.

Twilight Hour

Setting sun;
Breath exuding orange hues.
Holds fort at horizon.
Meanwhile, silent dusk,
Spreads a black shroud
On Earth’s land.

©2020 Gouttam Dutta

Merril D. Smith shared a Triquain, created by Shelly A. Cephas. This form is a poem with several creative variences and can be a rhyming or non-rhyming verse. The simpliest form is a poem made up of 7 lines with 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, and 3 syllables in this order.” [Misspellings in original.]

A Laugh Wings, Triquain

A laugh wings–
flies through memories and
dreams. Sings like a mockingbird, repeats
again, imprinted in our minds, within our genes–
well, who’s to say? We remember a
glance, words said—heart-haunted—
we grasp, hold.

©2020 Merril D. Smith

And the last amazing form is created by Jane Dougherty called a Florescence poem. Jane says, “This is a sequence of three Florescence poems, three lines of six, six and nine syllables respectively, with a rhyme on the sixth, twelfth and eighteenth syllables.“

Florescence sequence: Day night sleep

Beneath the bird’s egg blue
of sky by rain washed new
and clothed in heaven’s hue, all seems clear,

though in the darkest night
the brashest city light
casts shadow black and white—monochrome.

Yet take my hand, we’ll run
till days and nights are done
swept up into the sun, there to sleep.

©2020 Jane Dougherty

See you tomorrow for the new challenge!

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