Caveat: Quatrain #31

(Poem #228 on new numbering scheme)

The animals were gathered there
discussing their sad fate.
They knew they were illusions all
and conjured up too late.

– a quatrain in ballad meter. The picture was a whimsical creation of a few boring moments at work. I had been interviewing new prospective students, earlier, and I often have the students draw an animal (“follow instructions in English” / “Describe a picture in English”). These animals are mine, but inspired by first-grade student-drawn animals.
picture

Caveat: Quatrain #30

(Poem #227 on new numbering scheme)

Each Wednesday is speaking class
but how is this a thing?
The students sit and sometimes smile.
They don't say anything.

– a quatrain in ballad meter.

Caveat: Quatrains #27-29

(Poem #226 on new numbering scheme)

It is some kind of giant house -
in Mexico, I guess.
In hills, a purple sun hangs low.
We all wear battle dress.
I bear a weapon in my hand.
We seek some evil man.
The air, it reeks of burning wood
and peaches from a can
I'm walking down long corridors.
I'm searching for my team.
A slowly ticking clock goes *snap*
I woke up from the dream.

– three quatrains in ballad meter.

Caveat: Quatrain #26

(Poem #225 on new numbering scheme)

In time, some questions coalesce,
with answers no one knows.
The pallid moon is marching high.
The night's cold darkness glows.

– a quatrain in ballad meter.

Caveat: Quatrain #24

(Poem #223 on new numbering scheme)

The open sky consumed the air,
and ancient leaves spun round.
The ghosts attempted passing through,
their feet became the ground.

– a quatrain in ballad meter.

Caveat: Quatrains #21-22

(Poem #221 on new numbering scheme)

The alligator on the hill
was shot by arrows cruel.
The man was happy then to see
that hungry, bleeding fool.
The moon it glowed up in the sky
the ant he crawled below
the man's friends came to take the beast:
they took it to a show.

– two quatrains in ballad meter. The picture came first – a doodle drawn during a slow moment at work, to entertain a child sitting next to me. Then I made the poem to go with the picture.
picture

Caveat: Quatrain #19

(Poem #219 on new numbering scheme)

The cat was lurking in the path.
A blueness dreamed the sky.
Some leaves arranged the wind and sun.
The moon can't tell me why.

– a quatrain in ballad meter.

Caveat: Quatrain #16

(Poem #216 on new numbering scheme)

A place where you can see the sea
among the grassy dunes:
the wind is strong and claws the sand,
the waves just hum their tunes.

– a quatrain in ballad meter.

Caveat: Quatrain #15

(Poem #215 on new numbering scheme)

One foggy night I walked and met
The Land Surveyor, K.
He shared with me his boring hopes,
his bureaucratic day.

– a quatrain in ballad meter. A nod to Kafka, presumably, although the Ardisphere had a land surveyor, K, too.

Caveat: Quatrains #10-14

(Poem #214 on new numbering scheme)

I walk the streets to work each day
and there's a restaurant.
It uses wood to cook its food:
the smell - it tends to haunt.
Aromas paint the air with thoughts
and memories of youth;
the burning wood recalls to me
those camping trips: Duluth.
October in the northern woods
along Superior;
We drove and sang Bob Dylan songs
Or stopped there on the shore.
Eventually we'd find a camp,
where we could raise a tent.
We'd light a fire, or take a hike,
I guess it's time well spent.
So nowadays I miss my friends,
our lives each have their track,
but when I pass that eating place
the smells, they draw me back.

– five quatrains in ballad meter.

Caveat: Quatrain #8

(Poem #212 on new numbering scheme)

We know that tigers have their stripes,
which gives them perfect souls,
and that their fur is beautiful,
a glow like burning coals.

– a quatrain in ballad meter.

Caveat: Quatrain #7

(Poem #211 on new numbering scheme)

Pues iba caminando yo,
de paso raudo fui.
Me devoró la oscuridad.
Así permanecí.

This is a poem written in English ballad meter. It’s not so easy to write a poem in Spanish using this English metrical pattern. In particular, although Spanish possesses clear stressed and unstressed syllables, natural Spanish rhythms are strongly trochaic, so forcing it into an iambic line is quite awkward.

Caveat: Quatrains #3-5

(Poem #209 on new numbering scheme)

"Its time now, look, that starship waits,"
the alligator said.
"Okay, let's travel to the stars."
The monkey bent his head.
The friends began their arduous trip;
the parsecs zoomed right by.
Their boredom grew unbearable,
and one began to cry.
"Oh, how can we survive so long?
I wish this trip would end."
The two of them, disconsolate...
The reptile ate his friend.

– An absurdist space opera in three quatrains using ballad meter.
[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Quatrain #1

(Poem #207 on new numbering scheme)

The other day they forecast snow,
but then instead it rained.
I don't dislike a rainy day,
but snowless, I was drained.

– a quatrain in ballad meter.
I have decided to continue to challenge myself, and therefore the next poetic form I will undertake is a more native (i.e. traditional) English poetic style, called the “Ballad meter.” These are alternations of 4 and 3 (mostly) iambic feet grouped in quatrains, with a rhyming scheme a b c b. Much famous poetry in English follows this pattern, such as Coleridge’s “Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” Many well known songs and hymns also follow this meter (or, also, the very similar so-called “common meter” which differs only in having a “tighter” rhyming scheme a b a b), such as the songs “Amazing Grace” and “America the Beautiful,” as well as the theme song to “Gilligan’s Island.” I guess there is no specific name for a single quatrain of ballad meter verse, so I’ll just call them daily quatrains – or maybe sometimes I’ll try to make more.
I have never successfully done much poemifying in traditional English stress-timed meters – despite being a native speaker, the stress-timed patterns have always felt unintuitive to me, while I have been making more rewarding efforts at syllable-count-based poetry since middle school. I am much more comfortable with syllable-timed patterns such as predominate in e.g. Italian, Spanish, Japanese or Welsh. Hence my previous efforts at this “poem-a-day” blog have been on such forms as the nonnet (originally Italian) and englyn (originally Welsh), with occasional haiku back there, too.
picture

Caveat: Englyn #101

(Poem #206 on new numbering scheme)

One hundred and one poems
drawn from the sea's foamy rims
thrust into imagined homes
lost among time's felled columns.

– an englyn proest dalgron
My intention is that this is my last englyn. I’ll try to start something different for my daily short poems, soon.

Caveat: Englyn #100

(Poem #205 on new numbering scheme)

I got to heaven at last.
Prices were high. The cars, fast.
I looked around, aghast. Should I cry?
Then I knelt down, downcast.

– an englyn unodl crwca

Caveat: Englyn #99

(Poem #204 on new numbering scheme)

"Why do you write in your mind,
like some old bard?" asked my friend.
"I'm preparing for the end
of time, when the spaceships land."

– an englyn proest dalgron

Caveat: Englyn #98

(Poem #203 on new numbering scheme)

Mostly I'm just drawing lines
across a landscape of bones
which rest beneath the dry rains
of ash, covering my sins.

– an englyn proest dalgron
[daily log: walking, 1.5km]

Caveat: Englyn #96

(Poem #201 on new numbering scheme)

My friend, who is my reader, celebrates
his birth date. He's older.
Some old snow lurks like litter,
here and there, on the corner.

– an englyn unodl union.

Caveat: Englyn #95

(Poem #200 on new numbering scheme)

The octopus was alive.
But then it began to have
problems in the soup. It strove
to remember... what is love?

– an englyn proest dalgron, referencing the Korean custom of eating raw octopus that’s still wiggling.

Caveat: Englyn #94

(Poem #199 on new numbering scheme)

I'm plummeting through life: down...
Voices on all sides: a din...
Days end; days begin: each dawn...
Without purpose - but not done.

– an englyn proest dalgron

Caveat: Englyn #93

(Poem #198 on new numbering scheme)

On that first day, just one step
starts the world's making. Top-
down it goes, never to stop,
quantum nodes placed on a map.

– an englyn proest dalgron

Caveat: Englyn #92

(Poem #197 on new numbering scheme)

Weirdos are chanting by threes, and dancing,
Yelling at the pine trees.
From the north there wails a breeze,
So their madness starts to freeze.

– an englyn unodl union. This strikes me a more than a little bit Dylanesque – not that that’s an assertion of quality – it just has that feel to it.

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