Poetic Form 86: Rondel

 Walk By

No one turns to see me walk by.

Shadow fades as they blankly stare.

I keep my head down in a prayer,

a lonely song I testify.

The street is crowded, suits and ties

mix with soleless shoes, smiles rare.

No one turns to see me walk by.

Shadow fades as they blankly stare.

Everyone has an alibi

for the way they hide their despair.

No reason to connect, don’t care.

No one turns to see me walk by.

Poetic Form #86: Rondel

The rondel is a French poetic form with 13 lines, usually eight syllables,

in three stanzas. The rondel uses a rhyme scheme with refrains (AB):

ABba

abAB

abbaA

Poetic Form 83: Rimas Dissolutas

 Stranger From Nowhere

Walking city streets, boots clicking

the concrete. No one knows his name.

He is the stranger from nowhere.

Even though he’s been on these streets

for years. His shadow removes all 

memory of songs gone missing. 

The air he exhales ignites flames

in the words of their silent prayers. 

He can drop the stars like sharp beats

onto their hands, piercing the small

life lines until erased, kicking

the clock ahead. His rules, his game.

There is not a color, beware,

for his magic. No trick defeats

the way he knots the lines we call

divine. Tomorrows gone switching

with a wave of his hand. The blame

darkens their days. Silence declares

a last breath. His smile stops heartbeats

before they can catch their own fall.

Watch for the stranger from nowhere,

Waiting, a ghost in the back seat.

Poetic Form #83: Rimas Dissolutas

The rimas dissolutas form was popular in the 12th and 13th century 

with French poets. Each stanza contains no end rhymes, but each line

in the following stanzas rhymes with the corresponding line in the first

stanza. The poem sometimes employs an envoi at the end. There are 

no hard rules for syllable count, length, or meter. There just needs

to be consistency in the structure of the stanzas.

Poetic Form 79: Interlocking Rubaiyat

 Another Storm

Another storm, my hands become

numb. The wind cuts like a bass drum

along the street, angry with us.

Eyes closing I shy away from

Mother Nature’s judgment. Night plus

time reveals a clearing sky, thus

I can see Orion standing, 

shield ready as if he mistrusts

the oncoming day. Commanding

the horizon from expanding.

I wonder if he can save me,

from the storm I am withstanding.

My breath, white and dense, show the degree

the night has fallen. The grey trees

whisper over my head, “No, he

will not step from the stars for thee.”

Poetic Form #79: Interlocking Rubaiyat

The Interlocking Rubaiyat is composed of quatrains following 

an aaba rhyme pattern. The successive quatrain uses the 

unrhymed line as the rhyme for that stanza. A three-stanza 

rubaiyat rhyme scheme would be: aaba/bbcb/ccdc. Sometimes 

the final stanza rhymes all four lines. The lines are usually tetrameter 

and pentameter. Robert Frost’s "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” 

is a classic example.

Poetic Form 50: Sestina

Main Street

When we sale no more lies

posted on lamp poles in the light of the sun,

maybe then we will be able to find

the strength to walk together with love

on these crowded streets.

A better future needs a truer vision.

Nothing corrupts one’s vision

more than the belief of our own lies.

Jaywalking across unmarked streets

watching our shadow move with the sun.

Our steps in a hurry, because we love

to be seen for more than we find

in our coat pockets. We never find

the right keys to unlock our true vision

of the way we want to share love

with the world. Instead we write lies

on our phones. Never noticing the sun

going down while the lights of the street

illuminate the storefronts on main street.

Crowds pass us, all face down, finding

it is easier to get lost when the sun

goes down on their dreams. Cracked visions

of past moments flicker like lies

across lips that manipulated their love.

The pain of heartbreak darkens the love

we share with the pedestrians on the street.

We wave them across with a smile, polite lies

we combine with emotional Molotov cocktails we find

stored behind our eyes. Fire and destruction is the vision

we hold in darkness, truth pierces us in the sun.

At a crosswalk, traffic lights hard to see in the sun.

We crave a seat at a cafe with the ones we love.

A better day, less traffic, a simple vision

but a more meaningful life. A map with street

names clearly marked. We would finally find

our way past the boarded up lies.

The murmur of traffic lies in the ears, away from the sun,

confusing the soul. Hard to find peace and love

in a life that shares streets with strangers without a vision.

Poetic Form #50: Sestina

The sestina form is a complicated form, so I am linking to the guidelines presented
by Writer’s Digest, “Sestina Form”.

Poetic Form 30: Lune

City streets are fine ways

to find a

person to call friend.

Poetic Form #30: Lune

The lune form is also known as the American Haiku. A lune poem has 5 syllables

in the first line, 3 syllables in the second line and 5 syllables in the final line. 

A variation of this form uses the structure of 3 words in the first line, 5 words

in the second line and 3 words in the final line.

Poetic Form 3: Skeltonic Verse

To the Young Voices

Set the mic a blaze

with words that wave

and crash against 

the shores of pretense

Nothing more or less

than a voice intense

with the rhythm of pain

mixed with a story main

that calls for a tomorrow

filled with love instead of sorrow

Walk tall, we will follow

Words have power

to raise towers

that allow everyone a view

of a world we strive to

Where friendship is me and you

not dictated by unwritten rule

So set that pen to paper

Build a skyscraper

Truth won’t wait until later

We need your talent on stage

and street, love too can rage

Poetic Form #3: Skeltonic Verse

This form is named after the English poet, John Skelton (c. 1463 - 21 June 1529). The rules are simple. Lines are short with a couple of stresses. The rhymes are irregular. Alliteration and parallelism are used often in this form.

The Walker

10:37 p.m. Tuesday night.

The back road was empty next to the neighborhood that was developing about a mile away from the city. Light could be seen from a handful of windows and street lamps scattered across the the cul-de-sacs. A single streetlamp at the intersection of Maple and 87th Ave., one of two roads that brought people to the neighborhood, created a cone of light that revealed the farmland filled with corn stalks on the west side of the road. It was quiet. It was safe.

10:39 p.m. Tuesday night.

In the cone of light created by the streetlamp at the intersection of Maple and 87th Ave., a man appeared as if he walked out of the darkness instead of walking on the street. If anyone saw him, they would assume he was old, homeless, and lost. He wore three layers of t-shirts underneath a vest you would find on someone who was fly fishing. He limped with an up down motion on his left side. His fingernails were dirty. His hair was white, messy. If you had the chance to talk with him, his eyes would wander, never making eye contact. He slowly walked through the light toward the city.

A set of headlights appeared in front of the man. Derrick was heading home from Sonic. He had stopped to get a slushie after playing basketball at the YMCA. A group of school friends were hanging out, so he had decided to stay for a while. He texted his parents to ask if he could be home by 11:00. They were fine with it. Derrick was feeling good, music a little loud.

Derrick was surprised to see the man walking down 87th Ave. He released the gas a little as he moved over to the left lane to give the man space. As Derrick passed the man, he made the assumption that he was homeless and forgot about him as he turned right onto Maple, then right again onto Spruce Ct. Which was one of six cul-de-sacs in the neighborhood. Derrick’s home faced 87th Ave. There was an empty lot between the his house and 87th Ave. As Derrick reached up to push the button on the garage door opener, he saw the man, still on the avenue, but now facing him. There was just enough light from the streetlamp to see him. Derrick never noticed that he could actually see all of the man, even though the light should have only exposed the man’s left side. For a second, Derrick thought about locking his doors. The garage door was slowly opening, revealing the light from the garage door opener. Derrick’s attention moved to driving the car forward. The idea of getting ready for bed and the homework he probably should do before going to bed replaced the man in his mind. Derrick started to take his foot off the brake when motion outside his window drew his attention.

Derrick looked quickly outside the driver side window to see the man standing there. A slight smile on his grimy face, eyes still unfocused, and his hands moving up toward the window. Derrick had just enough time to register everything before the shattering of glass made him let go of the steering wheel to shield his face. His car moved slowly forward into the garage to bang into the fridge the family used to hold drinks like Gatorade, water, and sometimes extra beer. The impact was loud enough to wake Derrick’s mom, June.

June shook her husband, Robert. He grumbled then turned over. June got up, grabbed her robe from the hope chest at the end of the bed. She assumed she would run into her son in the hallway, but the house was still dark and quiet. She thought she could hear Derrick’s car still running in the garage. June felt that motherly instinct in her gut that something was not right. With the bang she heard, and the car still running, she sighed heavily as she considered the possibility that Derrick might have been drinking. She had worried about this moment since Derrick started junior high. June could feel her cheeks get warm as she unexpectedly felt anger gripping her heart. It was a Tuesday night.
June continued through the living room to the hallway with the door to the garage. June could definitely hear the car running and hurried to the door. June’s anger gripped tighter around her chest as she turned the knob.

June hurried down the three stairs to the floor. Anger was replaced with panic as soon as she saw the car’s grill pressed against the refrigerator, heard music playing, and saw the shards of glass around the edge of the driver side window.

    “Derrick! Robert come here!” June yelled as she pulled open the car door… to find the front seat empty.

10:43 p.m. Thursday night.

A single streetlamp at the intersection of Vine and 26th street created a cone of light that revealed the well maintained lawns. A single bark breaks the silence.

10:46 p.m. Thursday night.

In the cone of light created by the streetlamp at the intersection of Vine and 26th street, a man appeared. If anyone saw him, they would assume he was old, homeless, and lost. He wore four layers of t-shirts underneath a vest you would find on someone who was fly fishing. He limped with an up down motion on his left side. His fingernails were dirty. His hair was white, messy. If you had the chance to talk with him, his eyes would wander, never making eye contact. He slowly walked down Vine Street. Three blocks away a set of headlights appeared.

Google Maps

Flying from Lincoln

To Denver

To Phoenix

To Portland

I sat in a window seat

And watched the world go by

It looks nothing like Google maps.

I watched farm land

Rise to mountains

That fell into desert that bled

Into grey rainy weather

But I never saw a bright red line that indicated a state line

Or a small black one to show a county

Or a dotted line for a new time zone

No,

I watched rivers snake across the land,

I watched straighter roads do the same

 At times I could see the vehicles

 Rush with the tide

But instead of division lines

I connected every city

Every town

Every farm house

With the roads that cut across the surface of this country

It would take time,

 But I could walk out my door and see anyone

I found it interesting how easy we are all connected with the things we make

 Roads

 Phones

 Airplane Seats

Yet, the person next to me has nothing to say

 Earbuds are in the way

From 40000 feet

This life doesn't look anything like

Google Maps.