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 Formal & Rhyming Poetry

   with Vera Ignatowitsch

poetry magazine, formal & rhyming poetry, Vera Ignatowitsch

This month we are once again fortunate to offer two sonnets submitted by Michael R. Burch, editor of The HyperTexts.

Many poets have written about aging, but rarely, as in See, with a focus on the unique beauties of the last season of a life.

Water and Gold evokes some of Rumi’s (13th century Persian poet) poetry on love, as in ‘Love comes on strong, consuming herself, unabashed.’

See

 

See how her hair has thinned: it doesn’t seem

like hair at all, but like the airy moult

of emus who outraced the wind and left

soft plumage in their wake. See how her eyes

are gentler now; see how each wrinkle laughs,

and deepens on itself, as though mirth took

some comfort there, then burrowed deeply in,

outlasting winter. See how very thin

her features are—that time has made more spare,

so that each bone shows, elegant and rare.

For life remains undimmed in her grave eyes,

and courage in her still-delighted looks:

each face presented like a picture book’s.

Bemused, she blows us undismayed goodbyes.

 

Michael Burch

Originally published by The Eclectic Muse

Water and Gold

 

You came to me as rain breaks on the desert

when every flower springs to life at once,

but joy is an illusion to the expert:

the Bedouin has learned how not to want.

 

You came to me as riches to a miser

when all is gold, or so his heart believes,

until he dies much thinner and much wiser,

his gleaming bones hauled off by chortling thieves.

 

You gave your heart too soon, too dear, too vastly;

I could not take it in; it was too much.

I pledged to meet your price, but promised rashly.

I died of thirst, of your bright Midas touch.

 

I dreamed you gave me water of your lips,

then sealed my tomb with golden hieroglyphs.

 

Michael Burch

Originally published by The Lyric

Michael R. Burch’s poems have been translated into nine languages and set to music by the composers Alexander Comitas and Seth Wright. Burch’s poems, essays, articles and letters have appeared more than 2,000 times around the globe in publications which include TIME, USA Today, BBC Radio 3, The Hindu, Kritya, Gostinaya, Light, The Lyric, Measure, Angle, Black Medina, The Chariton Review, Poet Lore, The Chimaera, Poem Today, Verse Weekly, ByLine, Unlikely Stories and Writer’s Digest—The Year’s Best Writing. He also edits and publishes www.thehypertexts.com.

a sonnet on change...

​

Slow Afternoon

 

These days of sameness - how were they before,

when women trapped for decades looking out

on empty prairies yearned and did without?

When letters dallied months to reach your door,

and books were gifts to savor by the few?

when miles were felt as footsores, and the mere

long gamut of survival was career?

Full circle happens: now one can pursue

a passion with a vengeance, blossoming

in beds of opportunity, but crave

ever more stimuli or tokens, slave

to world too much awash in every thing.

Yes, one can yawn, stare blankly, stagnate when

change is pervasive as the oxygen.

​

Lark Beltran

Lighthearted Verse & Limericks...

 

​

There was a lad in Abu Dhabi

whose abode was a hotel lobby.

He slept in a chair

and always did swear

that his nap was only a hobby.

​

John J Mathews

member of DE Navarro’s We Write Poetry Wordshop

​

​​

​I WISH THAT THERE WERE DRAGONS

 

The darkness shot with flaming trails of dragons in the night

Sunlit, rainbow flocks of dragons, wheeling glorious in flight

Perched on cathedrals crags and castles, magnificent and proud

and the glint of tiny dragonets, phut phutting through the clouds

Playing hide and seek in thunderstorms, with eagles sure and swift

Sleeping scattered on the beaches, like washed up jewel-drifts.

Without such wondrous creatures, how can this world be whole?

How I wish that there were dragons, to feed magic to my soul.

​

John Shillito

Today He Gets Your Hand

a rondeau redoublé in iambic heptameter

​

Today he gets your hand, my dear, but in my heart you’ll stay.

While you may trade my name for his, my girl you’ll always be,

And though you have each other now, I’m never far away.

I’ve locked away my love for you and thrown away the key.

​

The music starts, I bow my head; let heaven hear my plea.

Your happiness is what I want, my child, for this I pray,

And that this man I give you to, loves you unselfishly;

today he gets your hand, my dear, but in my heart you’ll stay.

​

A marriage has both ups and downs, like nighttime follows day,

but disagreeing doesn’t mean you can’t remain happy.

As you begin this brand new life, please don’t forget to play -

while you may trade my name for his, my girl you’ll always be.

​

A true love doesn’t mean that eye to eye you’ll always see,

Or that you’ll never have a fight as you go through your days.

Remember that you started out in friendship, you and he,

And though you have each other now, I’m never far away.

​

I’ll be right here to guide you back, if you should lose your way,

For no one else will ever love you half as much as me

and you can tell me anything, I’ll believe what you say;

I’ve locked away my love for you and thrown away the key.

​

So take my hand, let’s walk the aisle, and let your love shine free.

With faith and patience you’ll get through together, come what may.

The truth is, life is more complex than any love story,

but if you trust each other, and stay friends, you’ll be okay;

Today he gets your hand.

​

published by The Society of Classical Poets Journal, 2016

Dusty Grein

Dusty Grein is an author, poet, editor and graphics designer. His critically   acclaimed novel, The Sleeping Giant, is available in print and as a Kindle Select title. His shorter works and poetry have been published in several collections, including Chicken Soup for the Soul, OWS Inked, The Society of Classical Poets 2016 Annual Journal and The Quarterday Review.

An award winning poet, he is a contributing member of The Society of Classical Poets, and sits on their Advisory Board. Several of his how-to essays on crafting classical poetry have appeared online and in two of their annual print collections.

When he is not busy writing, he donates a great deal of his time and graphics talent. In honor of his first-born grandson Eddy, lost to SIDS at 13 weeks old, he creates free memorial images for bereaved families with a special focus on infant and pregnancy loss. His blog, From Grandpa's Heart... is followed by fans around the world.

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