Bouts Râmes

Hey I'm the first. You can see my post on my blog here, but I'll go ahead and post it here too:

I write you lines so full of monuments
to love and wonder if my simple rhyme
could possibly survive while life contents
itself eroding everything with time,

will wear away the mountains, overturn
each clod of earth, destroying masonry,
devour our homes, the land, the trees will burn
till earth has changed so much our memory

behold it not with love but emnity.
But love bequeaths more love until there's room
to fill the earth for our posterity
as love survives and does not fall to doom.

As Phoenix, it will, from the ash, arise.
And you can see it live within my eyes.

Oops, "behold" should be "beholds". It's fixed on my blog.

yeah, its in my blog. but i'll put it here too.

In the museum of all monuments
I am in search of the one lasting rhyme
With all of its many lovely contents
Can it not stand the test of fathers time

It cannot and can fall nor overturn
The mastery of this quick masonry
Keep your fire for it will never once burn
For this once oft forgotten memory

How could one feel such a blind enmity
Is best when empty is the only room
Shall we for the sake of posterity
We know all the future can hold is doom

What else I ask is there that can arise
Do not answer 'til you look in my eyes.

Traveling in the monuments.

Of the old city of Rhyme.

Rummaging through it's contents

always out of time

you look here overturn

beneath the crumbling masonry

read while the candles burn

save the words to memory

you read of old enmity

in this dusty old room

you read of rhyme's posterity

and it's eventual doom

then with cracking knees you arise

and exit the darkness with shadowed eyes

pooh!! I cant get past abab!!!!

Note the word "preferably". If you can't make it go, then go ahead and break the rules.

Just a hint: this rhyme sequence has been tested and proven workable by one of the best....

I'll tell all next week. In the meantime, give it a good shot. You may astound us.

No need to tell us. A quick internet search found "Not Marble, Nor the Gilded Monuments". (Note the period OUTSIDE the quotes.) I'll have to do that BEFOREHAND next time.

Mine isn't that great, but its on my diary, as is the Quatrain thing (I did them both today because... well.. I just discovered this today, tshee!)

[duct-tapes Vic's blabbing fingers together]

Amy: no problem! Welcome to the Bouts! I always urge people to remember that not every bout will result in a masterpiece of literature, but the practice will help them become better poets.

Or as Judy Reeves puts it in her Writers Book of Days: Kiss your frogs

"The Sentry"

Hey! I thought you would WANT us to do the research, not wait until you hand down the relevance.

I finally figured out what cuts off my comments, my left handed "evil" smily face, which of course I can't demonstrate because it will cut off my comment. The rest of my comment was: I've tried typing with my fingers crossed before and that doesn't work well so I rather doubt I could do my job with my fingers duct taped. And unfortunately, earning a living is rather important to my lifestyle. Duct Tape! Repairing America!!!

I can rhyme it fine, but I cant think of a sentence that fits into the THEME of the dumb thing! still on abab SIGH....

The granite stones rise as monuments,
epitaphs etched in memory, their contents.

A mother seeks to find a reason or a rhyme,
wondering if there will ever be a time

when her heart will not overturn.
Will the stinging tears ever cease to burn?

Through them she looks amidst blurred masonry,
reflects upon the child, struggles with memory-

wondering how it came to be that he faced such enmity;
sacrificing his life to maintain the posh posterity

of those who lied. She wanders slowly into the room
of her child who's died. And cannot qwell a sense of doom.

How many more? She asks, as her prayers arise;
To her heart clutches the flag, and wipes her eyes.

Well, phooey.

That's what happens when you start the test without reviewing the directions...

For those who hadn't guessed, this rhyme sequence comes from Shakespeare's Sonnet 55:

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
But you shall shine more bright in these contènts
Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.

P.S. Allison: not bad. Iambic pentameter isn't mandatory, just preferred. If you can't make it go dah-DAH da-DAH, then it's OK to fall back to a less musical line.

Check my URL for my sonnet - the first I've written - alas not in iambic pentameter. Its more like iambic diameter with a big iambic triameter finish. Really.

ok...so now that I have written the thing in the proper cadence & rhyme, I gather it's uncool and archaic to follow the proscribed form...oh well, I was always out of sync and a throwback to another age, so what's new? Here it is anyway:

When men and women build love's monuments
Or strain to write a sonnet with a rhyme
Then tell each other what the heart contents
The challenge drives them out of time and mind

Perceptions they can try to overturn
But these are not of wood or masonry
Or substance we can raize or even burn
We must erase archetypal memory

Though you may think this leads to enmity
Then sleeping on the couch or separate room
Libido drives us through posterity
And progeny propel us to our doom

With Venus Mars some stormy times arise
There may be fear and rocks so close your eyes

I think I did better at being 16th century than Shakespeare...what think you, oh bard of OC?

I give up!!! Im gonna have to get poetry for DUMMIES I guess.

OK, since Joel has moved on to the triolet, I guess I had better post my unfinished sonnet (also on my blog).

The ragged forms of paper monuments,
Bare words without the slightest hint of rhyme.
These wisps on poles display forlorn contents,
Which will not last for all that long a time.
More ancient works did weapons overturn,
Both graceful spires and sturdy masonry.
As walls collapse, and stores and bridges burn,
The loss was graven in our memory.
When will there be an end to enmity?
Whatever can I say that ends in "room"?
May we bequeath to our posterity
A better hope than of our current doom.
The time will come when better days arise,
And fairer sights than these shall greet our eyes.

My ears are ringing with the monuments
of similies, metaphors, alliteration, and rhyme.
Unlike Shakespeare's sonnet fifty-five, the contents
of which is crumpled and faded with time.
My mind is young, fresh, and will overturn
old poems that linger like broken dumped masonry.
Arise from depths of school and uni, to burn,
burn, oldest poets held dear in memory.
You, mark my words — mark my enmity.
And strike your affairs — come, enter my room.
Get in early and remember me to posterity,
Do not be caught in what could be your doom.
So, Shakespeareans, shoulder arms, arise!
Defend sonnet fifty-five! Put out my eyes!