Poetry Forms - the letter C

[Primula]

Skipping the French Chant Royal only because it's very long and I feel lazy and it's December, we'll now move on to the fairly simple...
Japanese choka

According to Mr. Turco, the choka is written in alternating 5-7 syllable lines, with the conclusion being "an envoy that doubled the last seven-syllable line, 5-7-7, or that consisted of two 'choka couplets' with a doubled last line: 5-7-5-7-7-" (the tanka)

No mention is made of any need to rhyme, nor of any length restrictions as long as the basic pattern is adhered to.

Here's my own attempt, written this past summer when I was knee-deep in yardwork:

Choka Full o' Weeds

All around the yard
Small green invasions spring up:
Spiky, sticky weeds;
Bindweed, pigweed and horsetail,
Plantains and clover,
Dandelions and hairy vetch,
Quack-grass bunches, mint,
Swaying heads of Queen Anne's Lace.
Unwanted saplings;
Ash, hawthorne, cherry -
An invading army,
A large small army,
With grass-roots beneath them
Giving the home team support.


-

[daisy gold]

That is great Prim. You win the war and I'm sure your garden blooms.
A wonderful description of the invading army in your garden. Love the title.

[daisy gold]

Your lovely weeds put me in mind of bonfires. We are not allowed to have one , bye laws from the City hall. Our garden rubbish has to be recycled. So I just have to make do with dear old greenfingers from the Shire to provide one.


The Bonfire
.
.
A Japanese choka
.
A soft morning breeze
Wafts plumes of pungent wood smoke,
Curling round the Hill,
Swirling down the lane,
Autumn’s incense stirring dreams.
.
Sam rakes the deep leaves.
Piles, now heaps, then bundles grow,
Mounds of russet reds,
Mountains of burnished orange,
Yield to the devouring fire.
.
Bonfire fire crackles, spits,
Flaming fingers flick and leap,
Showering sparks frolic,
The flames’ fury roars and howls,
Fiery tongues soon thirst for more.
.
Autumnal gleanings,
Sun weary fading flowers,
Wild bramble bushes,
Twigs and branches, lawn trimmings.
Summer’s demise on a pyre.
.
Leaning on his rake,
The old gardener recalls,
Heartfelt memories
Of another burning hill,
A sense of sadness and loss.
.
.

By Daisy Gold.

[Primula]

As always, I am amazed at the color and texture you bring to your works. This is beautiful and moving, and sad.

[daisy gold]

Prim, I gave chokas another try for St Valentines Day and my favourite topic, hobbits. I made up the format using 5,5,7 and some rhymes.


Summer on the Hill
.
.

Golden sun brushes
The crown of the Hill,
Where blooms nod in blithe display.
.

Glad mistle-thrushes
Flute sweet joyful notes
Throughout the long sultry day.
.

Gracefully blushes
Sweet drowsy roses,
Arching round the green doorway.

.
Sam sings and brushes
The sun-dappled paths,
Work is a pleasure today.
.

Bright the brook gushes
From the mossy turf,
Laughing on its silver-way.
.

Dancing feet crushes
The daisied grasses,
As children run home from play.
.

A swift wind rushes
Through red ragged clouds,
As day turns to twilight grey.


Soft pink the flushes
On fair Rosie’s cheeks,
Deep love her blue eyes convey.
.

Whilst evening hushes,
Family she watches,
They are her dear love’s bouquet.
.
.

By Daisy Gold
.

My version of a Japanese choka.

[Ringwraith-Wife]

OMG... Daisy that is beautiful... a gorgeous word painting... you've "gone & got me" all misty-eyed. Thank you.

[Primula]

Wow - RWW didn't understate one bit either, that was just lovely.

[daisy gold]

Thank you , dear friends

[Primula]

Skipping the better known cinquain and clerihew we'll now be moving from Japan to Wales as we encounter the Clogyrnach ("clog-Ir-nach"). This Welsh meter has 6-line stanzas (sestets) with the syllable counts being 8-8-5-5-3-3.

Mr. Turco lets us know that "the two three-syllable lines may, if desired, be written as one six-syllable line. The stanza rhymes aabbba."

This puts the structure thus:
1. x x x x x x x a
2. x x x x x x x a
3. x x x x b
4. x x x x b
5. x x b
6. x x a

--
An example he gives by one Cynddelw Mawr: (the last 2 lines rolled into one, as he noted above)

Silent is the small deer's footfall,
Scarcely older than she is tall.
Comely, beautiful
And bred bountiful,
Passion will heed her call.

Now for an attempt of my own:

Plums

What a lovesome delight, the plum;
Juice-filled, icy or sun-warm. Come!
Watch the branches shake,
Baskets we will take,
Plum-jam make,
We'll eat some!

Plums delight wherever they're grown,
When picked by family or alone,
The juice runs down the chins,
Sweet flesh'd purple skins,
Squirrels win
Only stones.



Your turn!

[DoctorGamgee]

Just some nonsense...

Kiwis growing in my backyard.
Planting, sowing, Reaping is hard.
Trees nearby in bloom,
Lots of sunny room.
Fearing doom, Hope is hard.

Cousin Sam had fine elvish dust,
Spread on the wind in a wild gust.
If only I could
find a trace, I would
Grow some good fruit. I must!

Dr.G

[Primula]

Talk about a sentiment that I can relate to!

[Eruvanne]

Well, I put my hand to it and I hope it turned out ok. Y'all be the judges.

Rain fell down like tears from the sky,
Yet the sun shone in heavens high.
The rainbow was bright.
Drops like gems of light.
What a sight,
Beauty nigh.

[DoctorGamgee]

Lovely!

[Eruvanne]

Thanks, Dr.G! I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

[Primula]

I can see it - so bright and lovely indeed. Very nice!