By Treischel
Abortion
Please don't kill our children!
Please don't destroy our youth!
Don't listen to rhetoric of choices!
Come to know the truth!
Hitler tried to destroy the Jews,
Every man, woman, and child.
The world recoiled at this terrible news.
It was evil running wild!
And yet, we take similar actions,
One couple at a time,
But when we add up all the fractions,
It's an equally hideous crime.
We make the choice about killing a child
And call it a legal abortion.
The force of Law allows us to be reconciled
To this ethical conscience distortion.
But the numbers can only speak for themselves
Because, through it, millions have died.
While unknown futures are put on the shelves
For the convenience of our own pride.
We put "Life and Death" on a measuring scale,
The life in the balance an insignificant worm,
No more than a bloodclot, or a fingernail.
To have an abortion - or- carry to term?
When you consider as a meaningless loss
A chlid that is tragically unwanted,
Think of what Christ taught on the Cross -
All life is sacredly precious and vaunted.
To destroy human life is actually murder,
No matter the case, or its size.
Not even a legally structural girder
Justifies, when an innocent embryo dies.
The "Decision" for abortion is no choice at all.
Not for the Human Race.
For that path will only lead us over the wall
To the pit that's Satan's place.
We chose to kill our own children
By the thousands and the scores,
Pretending that it's our inalienable right,
Just like voting, free speech, owning stores.
But if we listen only to our selfish side,
Our sons and daughters will all have died.
We'd never get to see their eyes grow wide
When they open a box with a present inside.
Don't listen to legal and ethical noises,
Because, how could they really be choices,
If they give us nightmares every night
From our own children's dying voices?
Ignore free license to commit genocide.
It's truly a holocaust of our own making.
Put away our personal puffed-up pride,
And realize the scandalous steps we're taking!
Please don't kill our children!
Please don't destroy our youth!
Don't listen to rhetoric of choices!
Come to know the truth!
| Author Notes |
There is a battle being waged on this topic every day. Those pro-abortion see it as a woman's choice issue. Those against it see it as unnecessary, cruel destruction of life.
I come at this, not from a political point, not from an ethical point, not from a philosophical point, or even a religious point, but from personal heart-wrenching experience. I thought through the process and decided personally for life. Now my child has children. I stood by while my late teen and early adult children chose to abort my grand children. Why? Unwillingness to take responsibility. Convenience. Selfishness. For that, I fall on the side that it is evil Thank you for the use of Little Turtle by sweetdweems. |
By Treischel
"Hello"
"Welcome"
The Red man said,
As the White man stepped onto the shore.
"I claim this land for the Queen"
he said,
and then
he stuck
his flag
Into the
hot sand.
Red man saw their armor gleam, steel swords, fire spewing rods,
and mighty beasts they rode upon, horses they were called.
Deciding in fear to make friends with the strange gods,
he gave
the sacred
tobacco,
the corn,
much gold,
his land.
He did whatever White man said,
sharing sweat and bounty
and in
return,
White man
shook
his hand,
gave him
beads
and pots,
Warm wool blankets full of cholera.
Then they loaded their boats, sailed back to their Queen.
While the helpless Red man got horribly sick and died in the millions
| Author Notes |
I tried to make this like a Totem Pole. Call it Totem Verse. It is actually a Concrete Poem.
Jared Diamond, in his Pulitzer Prize-winning book, Guns, Germs, and Steel, noted that "diseases introduced by Europeans, spread from tribe to tribe far in advance of Europeans themselves, killing an estimates 95 percent of the Native American population. The most populous and highly organized societies in North America, the Mississippian chiefdoms, disappeared in that way between 1492 and the 1600s, even before the Europeans themselves made their first settlement on the Mississippi River." A true tragedy that went mostly unnoticed by the "Civilized" world. Far worse than the Black Plague that wiped our 30 to 60% of the European population. |
By Treischel
*** Warped-out World ***
I've often pondered my existance on Earth,
And whether it's worth it for a man to give birth
To a new generation, brought by us fools,
Through brain-washing classes at understaffed schools
That don't even teach us the simplest rules
About Life.
*
For life is quite difficult for each little guy.
A baby can only lay there and cry,
And see what's around him through each tiny eye.
How long will it take him to learn how to lie,
And torture his brother by stealing his toys?
Oh, don't worry mother, "Boys will be Boys".
Or will they?
*
We learn from around us, our parents and teachers,
The postman, the druggist, and hell-storming preachers,
Just how to behave, what's right and what's not.
So watch their example. You'll learn quite a lot.
You might even notice how not to get caught.
Well that's fine!
*
But is it worthwhile to bring up our sons,
When water's polluted wherever it runs?
A week's wages won't even buy hotdog buns,
And there's fighting and killing brought on by guns?
If that doesn't get you, just look at the sky.
The ash, dust, and vapors could cause you to die.
Is that Progress?
*
Our beauty's not natural, it's plastic and glue.
There are parking lots and buildings where once flowers grew!
When anything gets old, we just buy something new.
For sentiment has value to only a few.
We can't leave our houses without bolting the door
'Cause anything worth taking won't be there no more.
What of that?
*
When others are phoney, who can you trust?
Deceipt and deception are nearly a must.
Politicians will cheat you, Judges aren't "Just",
Policemen only care about making a bust.
What seems to be Love could really be Lust.
No one cares!
*
If a man is in terror to walk down the street,
How can he express love to the people he'll meet,
Or live through a day conscious of how others feel,
Or meet the right person and know that it's real?
He just can't.
*
For love is elusive, fickle, and blind.
It heightens the senses, but deadens our mind
To many things that we would normally find
To be quite repulsive, abusive, unkind.
You come home from work and try to unwind.
Why can't you?
*
The love of our parents is what brought us to be,
Or was it just passion. I wish I could see
Back to the moment I began to exist.
The temptation to stop it would be hard to resist.
The world's WARPED!
| Author Notes |
I wrote this poem in 1962 and looked at it again today. As the new year comes upon us, it's amazing how relevant it still is.
I guess I was in a dark mood that day. Many thanks to Skyangel02 for her artwork. |
By Treischel
Mayans worshiped a pagan god
Angry demon wanting their blood
Young children killed in piety
All sacrificed to diety
Now memories where they stood
Foolishly forecasting the world to end
Only pompous priests would ever portend
Of a December day in twenty twelve
Leaving a legend for pundits to delve
Straight to predictions that they can't defend
| Author Notes |
Thanks to Karri Harish for the artwork, Mayan Man
The Mayan culture was a brutal culture that disappeared hundreds of years ago. They performed human sacrifice of innocent children and captured enemies. Their pyramids ran red with blood. They also revered their athletes in the ball courts, playing lethal games. Who are they to be looked upon for wisdom? They are dust! Today, we kill our unborn children by the millions and worship our athletes with obscene money. Hmmmm. |
By Treischel
Counter Balanced Christmas
Presents are nice, Christ the Purpose
Heaven sent Hope, presents are nice
Christ the Purpose, Heaven sent Hope
Heaven sent Hope, Tree so pretty
People sing carols, Heaven sent Hope
Tree so pretty, People sing Carols
People sing carols, Christ the Purpose
Salvation's sent us, People sing carols
Christ the Purpose, Salvation's sent us
Salvation's sent us, tree so pretty
Angels sing praise, Salvation's sent us
Tree so pretty, Angels sing praise
Angels sing praise, season is jolly
People sing carols, Angels sing praise
Season is jolly, People sing carols
**************************************
People sing carols, Heaven sent hope
Salvation's sent us, tree so Pretty
Presents are nice, Christ the Purpose
Season is jolly
People sing carols
Tree so pretty
Presents are nice
Heaven sent Hope
Salvation's sent us
Angels sing Praise
Christ the Purpose
Jolly
People
Pretty
Presents
Hope
Salvation
Praise
Christ
Purpose
| Author Notes |
Merry Christmas to all
This is about the dichotomy in Christmas that pulls between Spiritual versus Commercial aspects. I was experimenting with this format. I'd call it Intertwined Free Verse, or maybe basket weave verse. I unravel it at the end. Thanks to avmurray for the artwork |
By Treischel
As I observe the world,
I can't help but see the magnificent patterns that God, the Creator, has woven throughout his amazing handiwork.
I think about the philosophical arguments we fools have,
on whether or not God created the world as stated in the Bible,
or whether it just evolved naturally
through some mystical chemical process that bubbled and boiled
a cosmic brew that eventually resulted in
US.
I find no contradiction in God's handiwork,
because I can see within His Mind a creation of instantly evolving thoughts
that simply evolved during the moment's time, as he started with simple things
and then
excitedly
allowed them to coalesce
and experimentally flow to more complex ones.
I'm sure glad He got off that
"udder" kick
before he got around to humans.
Now,
look around at mankind.
He created us in his image and likeness, and endowed us with abilities nothing else on earth has.
If we are made like him,
what is God's most noticeable characteristic?
HE IS THE CREATOR!
And,
I think that when He watches the feeble efforts of his maturing children,
He sits back and smiles.
So that got me inspired to write this:
The Creator's Mind (Nonet Poem)
*************
When God creates, There are no limits.
His touch creates, His Mind Explores.
He's the Master of Each Change.
Every single thing is new.
Great Diversity
In Everything
Mix Color,
Beauty,
Joy.
*
Now take a tree, There's no single type.
There are very many kinds about:
Pines, Oaks, Willows and Elms,
Just to name out a few,
And within the kind
No two are like.
They all have
Different
Shapes.
*
If that's not enough, Look at the Leaves,
Every one with the same purpose,
To capture daily sunshine.
But are they the same?
No! Hardly at all.
Each is unique.
They all have
Different
Colors.
*
Now, take a look at each separate leaf,
With similar shapes of the style.
Each cell and vein is unique
Compared to its neighbor,
When held together.
You clearly see
Not even two
Are the
Same.
*
Now, carry this to the world at large.
God's creation is ALL unique:
No animal, plant or stone,
Not even a snowflake,
Or a fingerprint,
Or tree, or Eye.
It's a real
Lovely
Thing.
*
It's not a surprise, that people too
Are part of the celestial brew.
We're a Human Bouquet,
In some Diverse Array!
Uniqueness being an
Awesome Thing!
We're all part
Of God's
Plan.
*
When you carry it out to the World,
Nothing's ever created exact!
Alike yes, but not the same.
It's a marvelous thing
When you realize,
Under Heaven
God is
King
*
We
Were
Created
In the image
Of God
And
Like
Our Father,
We are creators
Too
*
| Author Notes |
I originally posted this in December, 2012. None of my current fans have seen it. I thought it was worth reviving now. Hope you like it.
The Photograph I used for this piece is a picture of me, when I grew my beard out, sans glasses. Please don't think it presumptuous. |
By Treischel
Each and every time you look at Me,
Can you see! Yes! Can you See,
What you will be? Just look at me.
I'm like my Dad, and he's like me.
Not precisely, or exactly, or perfectly,
But in body, strength, and personality,
You will find a striking similarity.
So shall you be,
Eternally.
*
No cut can Free the Family tree.
Your seed is Me, for I am He
Who made you Be.
*
You hold the Key to my Eternity,
For your son's seed will carry Me
In his body 'til he sets it free
and You and He will be like ME,
A collective WE through society.
So if I fail to see, Heaven's mystery,
Or it's not to be a reality,
Don't weep for me, continuously,
For I shall Be -
Genetically
| Author Notes | I took a picture of myself for this Poem and photoshopped it to get the effect I wanted. |
By Treischel
Hopeless Homeless (Pantoum)
My life's abandoned to drugs and booze
My respect and pride are both long gone
Slime and vomit on my Goodwill shoes
Need to get some wine before day's done
***
My respect and pride are both long gone
I dig through trash. I'll beg or steal
Need to get some wine before day's done
Just get me high! Don't want to feel
***
I dig through trash. I'll beg or steal
I'll sleep in filth. I'll piss my pants
Just get me high! Don't want to feel
Work for me? No, not a chance
***
I'll sleep in filth. I'll piss my pants
I smell like shit! I sing the blues
Work for me? No, not a chance
My life's abandoned to drugs and booze
***
| Author Notes |
This Poem is about those hardcore homeless addicts that just want to be left alone with their inner demons to die their way.
This is not my usual cup of tea. It's certainly not a personal experience. But you know when you have these lines in your head that won't go away? This wouldn't let go. Had to get it out. Thanks to April Wyngant for "Evil Monkey" from FanArt Review. |
By Treischel
I walk
By myself, but not alone.
I was alone in my darkness,
but I felt a greater presence stir me,
A presence I could not see.
But I felt , as if at my side,
The warmth of a Divine power.
And, like a child, I clung to it
And asked for help.
*
I walk
In the comforting solitude
of darkness.
I was gripped,
As if held by some dark power,
Stripping me of Knowledge & Significance.
But the unseen hand of Mother Earth
Reached out and held me dearly to her bosom,
Beckoning to me softly
To close my eyes
and sleep.
*
I walk
In a frightening dream.
In an agony I looked up,
And beheld the stars.
They filled the sky with a clear light,
And the rays of this light
Reached out and touched me.
The wind rose up against my countenance,
And brushed across
My face.
*
I walk
In the firmness of my youth.
I climbed a hill,
As the first rays of Dawn
Showed themselves above the Horizon.
And I looked out to see
What the furure holds.
I saw before me
A road,
A dark, uncertain road.
| Author Notes | I abstracted the Self and Abstracted the Picture. I provided a muddy view of my future in the walking analogy. I wrote this poem while I was in High School in 1963, but it is still true today. Especially given the economy and the elections. For the picture, I took one of my photographs, then performed a viginette, then warped, and then blurred it for the final result. |
By Treischel
"Spare the rod, spoil the child"
I got my share of the rod.
Today's values, pretty mild.
Then...it was "ordained by God".
Today, they call it abuse.
Back then, dad ruled with a belt.
Punishment was the excuse,
To leave a corrective welt.
Mother wielded a paddle,
Or a slap across the face,
When a sibling would tattle,
To keep us in our place.
Teachers used a wooden ruler,
Or cracked together two heads.
Meted justice was crueler,
Colored by blacks, blues and reds.
Hope dies, when a hurt child cries.
Imprint of fear often stays
Reflected in abused eyes.
And those where the good old days!
| Author Notes |
As a child, growing up with 4 brothers and two sisters, I often got beaten bloody from my father's belt. It took weeks for the welts to heal. That was considered acceptable back in the 1950's. All those things described here, I personally experienced and more. It caused a hugh identity crisis struggle that took well into my adult life to recover from. Maybe I haven't fully.
Thank you for Farewell to Sins Goldfish by Echo7 on FanArtReview.com |
By Treischel
The Root and Religion
Our ancient ancestors sought to reveal
Many mysteries of the Universe
To see the star's magical clues
Answers from the Cosmos
Left undone as they
Seek far and wide
To find the
Primal
Root
Of all
So very deep
Within Religion
Rock, The Foundation
To build vast settlements
And awesome structures of stone
Finally Mankind evolved organization
With complex socially structured rules
The Formation of Civilization
Religion
Blind Faith, Devotion, Total Sacrifice
Double-edged Sword leads to Hate and War
Purges, Pogroms, and Holocaust
Crucifixions and Crusades
Holiest Rites Unyielding
Aloft Burning Cross
Witch at the Stake
The Good and
Evil
Root
| Author Notes |
All major civilizations throughout history centered their societies around the foundations of their Religion whether Egypt, Rome, Greece, Aztec Central America, Mayan South America, Isreal, China, or India. They were all structured by their belief systems.
The photograph above has a Mighty Mississippi driftwood root in the foreground and a shot of the Catherdal of St. Paul in the background. This was taken on Harriet Island. |
By Treischel
Our Earth.
It took a single speck
To spark the rich sandy substance,
some water from heaven's cosmic cloud deck.
Throw in large measures of frozen primal blackest matter
with just one pinch of dust that swirls upon the universal platter,
then absorb each creative breath of God from within a billowing blue.
Add cauldrons of molten metal from the fiery furnace of the celestial stew.
Then comes violent birth of a new universe as the transient elements explode:
asteroids, red planets, constellations, and stars, as black holes start to implode,
spinning free ovals and orbits and magnetic belts, pulled by force of gravity,
form solar systems as a collection of moons and sun's planets with rings.
Among billions created is our own, with a blue watery personality.
having fortunate and sacred mix to support many living things
First the waters covered all in deep blue blanket of froth.
Then ancient waters gathered to expose a land,
letting creatures walk solid sand.
These took over Earth.
Then Man.
| Author Notes |
Free verse and rhyme
I tried to make this as close to a round sphere as possible. There is no intent is hold a meter. There is some rhyme, but that was not my focus. Thanks for the artwork Earth by amfunny. |
By Treischel
A New Day
Warmth on my shoulder from the sun
Vanquishing shadows of the night
With that, a new day has begun
Promising new hours glowing bright
Will yesterday's faults be made right,
Or will they still remain undone?
Chance will turn on redemption's plight,
Warmth on my shoulder from the sun.
Hope lays within a new day won,
That grows a healthy appetite.
For there's another race to run,
Vanquishing shadows of the night.
Once more victory seems in sight,
I stand the mark at starting gun.
Striving once more with all my might,
With that, a new day has begun.
For, as the Earth's surface is spun,
Rotation has turned dark to light,
Rising up a glowing beacon
Promising new hours shining bright
Feel the glow new chances invite.
Awaken! The sun has risen!
To bless you from morning's new height,
Warmth on my shoulder from the sun
| Author Notes |
As the sun rises each new day and shines on our shoulders, we have another chance.
This poem is a Rondeau Redouble. The Rondeau Redouble is not, as its name suggests, a double rondeau. With a strict rhyming pattern it consists of six stanzas (quatrains) and a final refrain, all on two rhymes. Each line of the first stanza becomes, in turn, the last line of the four succeeding stanzas. The sixth stanza is all new though followed by the first phrase of the first line. Thanks to Gungalo for the inspiration. I took this picture of a sunrise at Duluth, Minnesota over Lake Superior in March 2012. |
By Treischel
Christ The Newborn King
He is
The One
The Lord of Lords, The King of Kings, is He
He is the Alpha and the Omega
He is
Holy
He is
Jesus
He is
Blessed
Baby
He is
The Light
Of the World.
God made Man
Lamb of God, here to suffer for our sins.
| Author Notes |
Another Christmas Message, meant to be shaped like a cross.
Just some word sculpting this morning Blood sacrifice was the requirement to appease the gods of the ancient world and God Alighty required this last sacrifice, so that further blood may only be symbolic thence onward. Today see it in the bread and wine, as Christ taught us at the Last Supper. Now our offerings are our thithes as we join in communion. Instead, Christ taught us to love one another even as ourselves. If we only could! Line Count 16, Syllable count: 2-2-10-10-2-2-2-2-2-2-2-2-3-3-10 Many thanks for the artwork cross explosion by wolf6249107 |
By Treischel
Perfection
What bright road leads to perfection,
As life heads in its direction?
While you're seeking throughout the night
Sorting it out, what's wrong from right
it's very easy to lose sight
That the course still needs correction
As you're seeking out perfection
Find perfection
In your lover's smiling eyes
Find perfection
Within Nature's big blue skies
And everywhere you look
You will find a pleasant brook
When every single step you took
Finds perfection
This is such an amazing world
When its secrets are first unfurled
Child-like minds in amazement twirled
Spinning out every direction
At the cosmic intersection
Find perfection
In your lover's smiling eyes
Find perfection
Within Nature's big blue skies
And everywhere you look
You will find a pleasant brook
When every single step you took
Finds perfection
The world spinning in control
Within a universal role
One little portion of the whole
Within gravity's protection
At the Creator's election
Find perfection
In your lover's smiling eyes
Find perfection
Within Nature's big blue skies
And everywhere you look
You will find a pleasant brook
When every single step you took
Finds perfection
| Author Notes |
This Poem is about seeing the perfection that is all around you.
At a Prompt from Gungalo, I am making an attempt at a Villancico Style Poem. Villancico: Spanish verse form first found in 12th century Iberia. Usually about religious, pastoral or other popular theme. Unlike its spin off the Villanelle, there are many different verse rules. It seems most of the Villancico written during this time use the following rules. Opening stanza provides in whole or in part, a REFREAIN of one or two lines that rhyme. This refrain will conclude the remaining stanzas. Rhyme scheme is quite demanding, with each stanza required to be symmetrical from 3 to 8 lines and rhyme with one another but not with the refrain. Further complicated by mandatory symmetrical 6 to 14 syllable lines seems to be standard,, except in the refrains, where syllable count is not as important. Here is the most common rhyme scheme. Aa bbbaa bbbaa cccaa, etc.. Today, lyric writers us this form for the combined use of rhyme, meter and syllabic count, but have changed verse rules to fit their needs. I hope I did it right. The photograph is a fountain at the Como Conservatory in St. Paul Minnesota. I thought it is close to perfection. |
By Treischel
Death Bed
~<>~
I am on a lonely sea,
And fight the storm of death,
And only my thoughts can comfort me,
' Till I walk that Eternal Path.
*
I see my life go flying by,
A vision of my past.
I love, and laugh, and weep, and cry,
' Tis my life's first breath to last.
*
I rip, and tear, and analyze
To see where I've gone wrong.
For a man must know before he dies,
Exactly what he's done.
*
A twinkle appears within my eyes,
A smile upon my face.
For now I know that when man dies,
He finally finds his place.
~<>~
| Author Notes |
Just a Poem
I actually wrote this poem in 1963 but pulled it out recently and thought, not too bad. Thought someome might enjoy. And, Im still kicking around. Thanks for Artwork by MinoYasue at FanArtReview.com |
By Treischel
Adrift to Dream
Lift me into the painted sky
To heights above the mountains high
Adrift among billowing clouds
Away from loud annoying crowds
To heights above the mountains high
Where legends live and eagles soar
The dream my soul's been searching for
Lift me into the painted sky
Adrift among billowing clouds
Where heaven's touch will set me free
And guide me where I'm meant to be
To heights above the mountains high
Away from loud annoying crowds
To meditate in solitude
My fears released, then peace ensued
Adrift among billowing clouds
| Author Notes |
This poem was inspired by my friend Ritchie (9999pool) who introduced me to this poem yesterday. As I was intrigued, I had to try it.
This poem is written in Lisalet Style. This is the new 'Lisalet Style/Format' Poem, developed by "L Sherman", a member of FanStory. I'm told I'm the third poet to try it. This style has similarities with some other styles. The repetition in this poem is all based on the opening stanza. Each successive stanza starts with the corresponding line from the first. (Second stanza starts with 2nd line of first, so on...). Also, the final line of each stanza after the first one is the line directly preceding the repeated lines. Second stanza starts with 2nd line of first stanza and ends with the line immediately above the 2nd line in the first, and so on. The line flow is like this: 1,2,3,4 - 2,5,6,1 - 3,7,8,2 - 4,9,10,3. There is no line count or rhyme scheme specified. For this poem I chose a count of 8 and a rhyme scheme fell out as: aabb abba abba abba The photograph is one of mine. |
By Treischel
THE WORLD IS SAD TONIGHT!
For the loss of Walter Cronkite.
The News was always right,
When he had it in his sight.
He could make the darkness bright,
And decipher black from white,
Whether News, or War, or Fight
He'd say "That's How it Was", allright.
GOODBYE AND GOODNIGHT!
To our Friend Walter Cronkite.
| Author Notes |
A monorhyme.
Written from the perspective of the day he died. This photograph is a work for hire created between 1952 and 1986 by one of the following staff photographers at U.S. News & World Report: Warren K. Leffler (WKL), Thomas J. O'Halloran (TOH), Marion S. Trikosko (MST), John Bledsoe (JTB), or Chick Harrity (CWH). It is part of a collection donated to the Library of Congress. Per the deed of gift, U.S. News & World Report dedicated to the public all rights it held for the photographs in this collection upon its donation to the Library. Thus, there are no known restrictions on the usage of this photograph as part of Public Domain. |
By Treischel
Let us start a new journey,
At the turning of the guard,
By shaking off the sorrows
That are making life so hard.
Tomorrow's another day,
And our yesterday is gone.
We have opportunities
To fix everything that's wrong.
| Author Notes |
It's never too too late to start fresh. Every day is a new day. Life is a Journey. There's light at the and of the tunnel
This is one of my Photographs of a tunnel up in Duluth, Minnesota. This will become another poem for my Picture Poem book. |
By Treischel
Peace (Palindrome Poem) by Thomas Reischel
~.~
Peace
Bring it May
People to Love All
Give Mankind to Wisdom Great
Arms Gentle Us Enfold
Sins away Take
Pray
Take away Sins
Enfold us Gentle Arms
Great Wisdom to Mankind Give
All Love to People
May it Bring
Peace
~.~
| Author Notes |
This is my first attempt at this format.
This photograph is from my personal collection. It is an angel figure on one of the lesser roofs on the St. Paul Cathedral in St. Paul, Minnesota. A palindrome is a word (or sentence) that reads the same backwards as forward. So "Madam" is a palindrome. For a palindrome poem you incorporate it into your poem but do so with the sentences. |
By Treischel
Just look upon the ground, you'll see
Nature's lesson of Diversity,
The colors mixed in a jumbled array,
A collage of colors in mixed display.
Maple, Birch, Oak, Elm and Pine
Are glorious when they can combine.
We shouldn't let this lesson pass
That's lying there, right on our grass.
| Author Notes |
Just a thought
this picture is from my Photo Collection |
By Treischel
died upon the cross
broken body bled for us
women looking on
| Author Notes |
It is interesting how the church has underplayed the role of women as authorities and ministers in the Church. I find these scriptures particularity revealing about Jesus and his relationship with women.
I researched and meditated on the four Gospel versions of the crucifixion intending to focus on Mary, Jesus' mother. I had the painting of the Pieta in mind. But after reading and meditating, I was drawn to the participation of all the women and their story. I changed what I wrote and focused again on these particular verses. Matthew 27:55 And many women who followed Jesus from Galilee, ministering to Him, were looking on from afar. The words Ministering to Him struck me. Mark 15:40,41 There were also women looking on from afar, among whom were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the Less and of Joses, and Salome. Who also followed Him and ministered to Him when He was in Galilee, and many other women who came up with Him to Jerusalem. Many women followed Him to Jerusalem, Ministering. Luke 23:27,28 And a great multitude of the people followd Him, and women who also mourned and lamented Him. But Jesus turning to them, said "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for Me, but for yourselves and for your children". Luke 23: 48,49 And the whole crowd who came together at the sight, seeing what had been done, beat their breasts and returned. But all His acquaintances, and the women who followed Him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things. John 19:25-27 Now there stood by the cross of Jesus His mother,and His mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw His mother, and the disciple whom he loved standing by, He said to His mother "Woman, behold your son!". Then He said to the disciple, "Behold your mother!". Many thanks for the use of the artwork, Crucified Christ by tomg48 from FanArt Review. At the foot of the cross were the women. |
By Treischel
English Confusion
Is English a language to scorn?
I find it easy!
I've known it since I was born.
Oh! It's the spelling that you spurn?
Not a problem,
Just sound it out! You'll Learn!
If you're looking for some consistency,
Find out just how simple English can be!
Just sound out the word it will get you bye.
Here's a couple that I hope you can try.
It's as easy as eating from a bowl.
If you like that one, try eating a roll,
Or sink your teeth into a donut hole.
Cook that juicy steak on a burning coal.
I find that satisfying for the soul.
I think that I've nearly gotten it right.
I'm often quite clever in my own rite.
When needed help, I hired a wright
But I don't need a helper when I write.
My grandma was happy to sit and sew.
While grandpa had the north forty to sow.
The babe in the cradle, they loved her so.
I went to the market to buy a fowl,
But the chicken that I cooked tasted foul.
When bowl rhymes with soul, the whole takes a toll.
I'm really not trying to sound too mean.
I hope that an issue or two was seen.
Well, I'm guessing it's time to split this scene!
S0, by-the-by, Bye Bye!
| Author Notes |
Just some word thoughts that were floating in my head.
The middle stanzas intentionally go 5-4-3-2-1 in number of lines Beside the first two and last refrains, the syllable count is 10. I reused bowl and soul as juxtaposition to fowl and foul. Thanks for the artwork of Graffiti by GaliaG on FanArtReview.com |
By Treischel
Come along this journey with me
To places where we've never gone
Pack up
Get set
It won't begin riding sailing ships
Nor will we adventure in planes
But still
Fun waits
Get ready for some great trips
Just to journey, with your mind
Thrill ride
Over time
Search the past, seek far away
Find new futures, or old times
Read books
Learn things
Come along this journey with me
To places where we've never gone
| Author Notes |
Reading Books is like going an a journey. Not Physically, but in your mind.
This poem was inspired by Ritchie, 9999pool. He wrote a Poem, Worlds Apart, that was based on a Trinet by Zion, that was supposed to look like a railroad tracks, or Jpourney. Well that got me thinking. I modified it quite a bit and came up with this. I call the form - Railroad Track Free Verse. This poem has two stanzas of 8 lines, and an ending couplet that repeats the first two lines. The word count is either 6 or 2. The syllable count is: 77227722 77227722 77. No rhyming scheme. You must be careful with word selection to hold the shape. So, does this look like railroad tracks? The picture of the tracks is mine. |
By Treischel
Blue Planet, Earth's Waters
Oh, take me to where clear cool waters flow,
Then let me take a sweet refreshing drink.
To sit here now upon a hillside bench,
Relieved, content, with this big thirst now quenched.
Now let this water set sick soul at ease,
A primal feel revealed within my mind,
This ancient spring of life all creatures need
Survives since life began on land and sea
Without its gentle nurture life would fail,
For we are truly blessed on this blue orb.
No other living planet's yet been found
With atmosphere where thriving life prevails.
So cherish this Blue Earth's environment,
As it's the only precious one we have.
Enjoy the wind washed water while we can,
And pray for its replenishment, each day.
Then take your ease and dangle toes with joy
Find peacefulness wherever water flows!
| Author Notes |
How Precious is our water!
This Blank verse has incidental rhyme. Written in iambic pentameter The picture belongs to the author. |
By Treischel
After Glow
Shining in the after glow!
Freak atomic Laser show?
Impossible to happen, they said.
Here we are in acid rain,
And there's fires on the plain,
All our friends and neighbors are dead.
Do we know what happened yet?
Weren't all our defenses set,
To ward off disasters, any kind?
What happened, Capitol Hill?
Couldn't pass the Defense bill?
It was hopeless, our leaders were blind!
Shining in the after glow!
Freak atomic Laser show?
Impossible to happen, they said.
| Author Notes |
What was it? Terrorist? Asteroid? Nuclear Accident?
I left it to the reader to decide. This poem was written based on this photograph that caused me to see disaster in it. Thus, the poem. It will become one of my Picture Poem Book chapters. This picture was taken in St. Paul, Minnesota. It's actually a sunset gone wild. Taken April 2011. |
By Treischel
Casino Character
I don't need to hit Vegas or Reno
Just head out to the local Casino
When feelings are brisk
For taking a risk
Then let my car whisk
Down the road like a blazing el-nino
As I pulled into parking lot, the midday sun was really hot
With a smooth limo flow, Tour buses come and go
I anticipate winning a pot
As I came through the door, there were people galore
First thing was to check in my coat
I felt slightly dazed, because the people I gazed
Had differences I had to note
There were Indian chiefs, and some pick pocket thiefs
Young people were pierced in strange parts
There were drunks that were bold, and some people were old
With their canes, wheelchairs, and their carts
I shouldn't mention, they were spending their pension
And social security checks
There were serious gamblers, tottering ramblers
Some card sharks shuffling their decks
There was even a young pair with bright purple hair
Who needed to pull up their pants
Those taking welfare too, were there spending a few
Food stamps and government grants
The player with his smoke thought it was such a joke
Sitting by him I had to wheez
And the gal dripping gold had a very bad cold
As she coughed and started to sneeze
The high rolling gents ignoring dollars and cents
Threw away hundreds of dollars
There was also the jerk, playing hooky from work
Who bangs the machines and hollers
Breaking even I'd say, was a pretty good day
Have gotten my fill of ka-ching
My bank didn't crash, since I came home with my cash
I think that's a pretty good thing
So make sure if you go
To have plenty of dough
You might have a ball
Or you might lose it all
| Author Notes |
Casino's can be good fun or dangerous addictions.
I wrote this poem at the prompt of a good fan friend, and fellow Fanstorian, trimple, who read my poem, Ka-ching, and suggested I write a poem about people watching in the Casino. So, I wrote this poem that captures the people and some of the good and bad. The photograph is one of mine, from the Treasure Island Casino, near Red Wing, Minnesota. I chose this one for the signs that say "Do Not Enter" showing. For some people it is definately the wrong way. |
By Treischel
When I'm Alone
In those quiet hours of the night,
When I'm Alone.
Darkness brings about deeper fright,
Causes unknown.
What leaves me timid as a mouse?
Loud creaks and moans about the house
Can leave my soul chilled to bare bone.
When I'm alone.
I have to fight to make it right,
While lying prone.
Fighting demons with all my might,
Not on my own.
My head bent in celestial nod,
I gave those feelings up to God!
Then from dark room those fears have flown,
When I'm alone.
| Author Notes |
Bumps in the Night
The artwork in from Microsoft ClipArt Images |
By Treischel
Paddy O'Dea
Ole Paddy O'Dea lived by the bay
Of the beautiful Emerald Isle.
Fishermen say, there are mermaids at play,
And he had been searching awhile.
Peter O'toole knew of a pool
Where the finned ladies were known to swim.
The very thought of it, made Paddy drool,
But Peter just wouldn't show him.
So Paddy thought, then went out and bought
Grumpy Peter a barrel of rum
Soon the route to that pool, Paddy was taught
When Paddy made Peter his chum.
Say what you may of Paddy O'Dea
After he got wind in his sails.
But it may explain why they look that way,
Since all of his children have scales.
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
| Author Notes |
A little Irish Tale (Tail)
This poem has a syllable count of: 8,9,10,8 Rhyme scheme: abab Picture courtesy of Microsoft ClipArt |
By Treischel
Up and Down
Can you really be up, when you're down?
Can you make a smile, from a frown?
I need to figure it out on my own.
I'm not sure I've ever known.
I guess I could find myself up in the sky,
And still find myself able to cry.
When the things that I'm feeling aren't making me low,
Does that mean that I'm up? I don't really know!
Am I up, just because I'm awake?
When I'm sad, being happy's not easy to fake.
A sad situation's not easy to take.
Can I even feel happy, when my heart's about to break?
Maybe the answer's up in the sky,
Adrift on the cottony clouds floating by.
Maybe it's out there. Maybe I'll try,
To search for it up there, by getting high!
Can you really be up, when you're down?
| Author Notes |
A Puzzling Thought
This is a puzzle poem. A puzzle poem conveys thoughts, emotions, or sayings that are puzzling to you. It raises the Question and leaves for the reader to answer for themselves. This type has no specific rules except to rhyme in some way. There are no requirements on format, tempo, or syllable count. This type of poem was created by Ritchie, 9999 Pool. The photo of the clouds are from the author's collection. |
By Treischel
Dare to Dream
(A Sestina Poem)
Released to wonders, when we dare to dream.
Alive to possibilities we share.
Our minds can drift away on misty Beam,
Bedazzle us with mighty magic flair,
Aloft like feathers floating in the breeze,
Imagining new concepts dreampt with ease.
Relaxing tension, as we take our ease,
We drift until we fall into deep dream.
Our bodies lay at peace in gentle breeze
Upon this earth that all God's creatures share
Under stars that create celestial flair,
So softly touched by light of bright moon beam.
Now, lighted by the stars our faces beam.
Our countenance reflects this restful ease.
Sweet smile appears as lip's loose edges flair
Responding to the gist of pleasant dream.
Awakening to thoughts we'd like to share
Before they sail away on morning's breeze.
Now suddenly aroused by blowing breeze,
We throw a covering across the beam.
Then think about the wisdom we will share,
Such things that help to set the world at ease.
That never knew at first what we could dream,
And do with skill, unknown before, with flair.
To celebrate this feat, we launched a flair,
And watched it sail aloft on open breeze.
It burst! Releasing colors of our dream.
A fiery flash filled sky with brilliant beam
For all the world to see with willing ease,
A masterpiece that we can give and share.
This gift all people have in equal share.
You really don't need any special flair.
Just reach inside to tap with simple ease
Your own imagination. It's a breeze!
Just set your sights to sail on silver beam,
To travel anywhere you dare to dream.
So light that flair, Prepare to share!
Set soul at ease, take to that Breeze!
Hop on a beam, and dare to dream!
| Author Notes |
We all can dream, just let our imagination fly.
This poem is a Sestina. A Sestina is a poem with a fixed repeating format, written in iambic pentameter tempo, using the same end words in six patterned sequences of stanzas, followed by an envoi of the same six words paired. For example, if you take the last word in line 1 of the first stanza and call it A; the last word of the second line and call it B; and so on...you'd have the six key words that are repeated throughout the poem, but never in the same manner. The six end-words must follow the fixed pattern. Six end-words in a given sequence ABCDEF / FAEBDC / CFDABE / ECBFAD / DEACFB / BDFECA (envoi, in this case DB-FE-CA). The rhyme scheme becomes complex due to the fixed formats of the words. There are only 3 rhyme pairs throughout that repeat in every stanza. For this Sestina the scheme is: ababcc cacbba acbabc cabcab bcaacb bbccaa. The Sestina then closes with a Envoi that is shorter and contains all six rhyme words. You'll also notice that the last word of each stanza becomes the first rhyme of the next Stanza. The author took this photograph on July 4, 2012. |
By Treischel
Fickled Faith
(5-7-5 Poetry Suite)
What you cannot see
Becomes liability
If you don't have Faith
Many mysteries
Can become realities
When you have true Faith
Waved the Earth goodbye
By believing man could fly
The result of Faith
Watch an object fall
When you push it off a wall
Gravity of Faith
What duplicity
About electricity
Had there been no Faith
Deep humility
Makes the best Humanity
When you trust in Faith
Not a big surprise
If you can't believe your eyes
Then you must have Faith
So, keep Faith alive
Then free spirits will survive
There's freedom in Faith
| Author Notes |
There are many kinds of faith: religious, scientific, and humanitarian, for example. I've tried to capture that here.
These stanzas are written in a 5-7-5 format, but are not intended to be haiku or senryu. The picture juxtaposes Science and Religion. The photograph is one of the author's. |
By Treischel
Traffic Jam
(A Kyrielle Poem )
It snowed last night, it's still blowing!
Morning traffic's snarled and slowing.
While I breathe gas fumes, seeing stars,
Sit seething in a sea of cars.
The road has its share of brash fools
Who don't understand driving rules.
While they're spinning, leaving tire scars
Sit seething in a sea of cars.
Maybe turn on the radio.
It's obvious traffic can't go!
Listen to wailing blues guitars,
Sit seething in a sea of cars.
It's been hours, the day is shot!
The distance? How little I've got!
Maybe then, I'll just hit some bars.
Sit seething in a sea of cars.
| Author Notes |
Traffic Jams, Nobody Moves
Artwork courtesy of Microsoft ClipArt |
By Treischel
Warm Rain
When warm rain falls upon my head
It's a kiss of heavenly grace
Tiny rivulets softly spread
When warm rain falls upon my head
It cleanses worries that then shed
I look up, it washes my face
When warm rain falls upon my head
It's a kiss of heavenly grace
| Author Notes |
Rain can be so refreshing when it's light and warm.
Thanks to MicroSoft ClipArt fpr the Artwork |
By Treischel
Rain's Waters
What wonderful blessings on Earth
When rain waters its thirsty soil
Refreshes as it brings rebirth
What wonderful blessings on Earth
Abundant celestial worth
Blue water makes planets royal
What wonderful blessings on Earth
When rain waters its thirsty soil
| Author Notes |
No life without water. Earth is unique, making it Royal among planets.
Spring rain brings new life in the soil. Rain makes the rivers and oceans. Thanks to Microsoft ClipArt for the Image. |
By Treischel
Stormy Seas
The blowing winds on stormy seas
Will raise wild rolling waves of fright.
With loose sails snapping in the breeze,
The blowing winds on stormy seas
Then gets God's crusty seaman's pleas,
As they battle to set things right.
The blowing winds on stormy seas
Will raise wild rolling waves of fright.
| Author Notes |
Even the worst sinners turn to God when their fears turn to fright.
Thanks to MicroSoft ClipArt for the Artwork. |
By Treischel
Finding Love
You can search the world for treasures of gold,
Rubies, and pearls, and things money can buy,
But those aren't the treasures I wish to hold,
Or decadent pleasures I'd like to try.
No, it's not the search for riches untold,
Where thirst for endless possessions apply.
Truth of these trinkets cannot rise above
The secret to Life - to have and share love.
Love's the most valuable thing about life.
The gift you give and receive without end,
To be shared between each husband and wife.
Where the purest essence lovers expend
Guarantees continuation of life
Given to children, as families blend
Into functioning units of sharing,
And wonderful examples - of caring.
With that as the core, showing to the world,
Such hope and tenderness, each giving more,
Notions of peace can be fully unfurled,
Loving our neighbors as never before,
Where Eons of hatred as tensions swirled,
Can be overcome on each Nation's shore.
When pure love is loosed, you can be sure
That, when all's said and done - Love is the Cure!
| Author Notes |
I wish the Love, like that of a Mother and Child, could be spread to everyone throughout the world, for each other.
I meant to enter the contest, but by the time I wrote this, the contest was still open, but full. So, I guess I'll just post it in general. The picture is of my daughter and grandson. |
By Treischel
The Battle Won
Jesus is in the tomb today.
At least that's where the body lay.
His soul has traveled down to Hell
To greet the Dark One in his well,
And loose the bonds of tortured souls
That have for eons shared these shoals.
He's forced Satan to open gates
For those deserving better fates.
Jesus greets Adam, the first man,
Captured there since time began.
Released upwards like flocking birds,
Savor freedom at Jesus words.
Through sacrifice, as God had planned
The righteous are no longer damned.
| Author Notes |
A Glorious day for God's plan, as we grieve the body in the tomb.
Six sets of rhyming couplets. Syllable count 8. Artwork via Yahoo Images |
By Treischel
Picture Puzzle
(A Rondel Poem)
Puzzle pieces, find a fit.
When keyed on edge to make it whole.
Search to place each tiny bit.
Match color pattern to achieve grand goal.
Many hours spent on it
So often rewards a patient soul.
Puzzle pieces, find a fit.
When keyed on edge to make it whole.
Concentration, as you sit
Examining each small swirl and wohl,
Helps a mind to gain control
When life's burdens make you want to quit.
Puzzle pieces, find a fit.
When keyed on edge to make it whole.
| Author Notes |
One of my favorite forms of relaxation. My grandson Jeremy Thomas (JT) loves to work them with me.
This poem is a Rondel Poem. A rondel is a verse form originating in French lyrical poetry, later used in the verse of other languages as well, such as English and Romanian. It is a variation of the rondeau consisting of two quatrains followed by a quintet (13 lines total) or a sestet (14 lines total). The rondel was invented in the 14th century. The first two lines of the first stanza are refrains, repeating as the last two lines of the second stanza and the third stanza. (Alternately, only the first line is repeated at the end of the final stanza). For instance, if A and B are the refrains, a rondel will have a rhyme scheme of ABba abAB abbaA(B) The meter is open, but typically has eight syllables and may or may not be in Iambic. I swithched that for this one and used a mixed meter on 7/9/7/9 non-iambic. This picture I took this morning of the latest puzzle. |
By Treischel
Dorothy's Dream
OZ is such a mystical place
For someone lost alone.
With wonders and evil to face
There to meet the unknown.
Find the wizard, the Munchkins sing,
Will help to resolve everything.
Find the wizard,
Find the wizard,
Dorothy's homeward hope it can bring
OZ is such a mystical place,
Scarecrow, Tinman, Lion,
Down the trail together they race.
Rush down the road they're on.
Yellow brick road search to obtain
Their lost home, heart, courage, and brain.
Yellow brick road,
Yellow brick road,
Dorothy wants to get home again.
OZ is such a mystical place,
Wizard wishes abound.
A world to follow dreams you chase.
What's really most profound,
Always had them, just didn't know.
And, they didn't have too far to go
Always had them,
Always had them,
Chase those dreams, and go with the flow.
| Author Notes |
The Wizard of OZ is a classic and favority movie for many. I'll be taking my grandson to see the Great and Powerful Oz movie soon, and it got my Muse going on this Oz theme.
In the Original movie, Dorthy dreams of this mystical place with wizards and witches, and three unusual friends, all searching for something. In the main story they all find out that they didn't need a Wizard's magic, they already possessed what they sought. Then Dorthy's wish to go home is met, when she finds it was just a dream. I tried to capture some of it in this poem. This Poem is a Trijan Refrain. This is my first attempt at it. I hope I got it right. Let me know. The Trijan Refrain, created by Jan Turner, consists of three 9-line stanzas, for a total of 27 lines. Line 1 is the same in all three stanzas, although a variation of the form is not to repeat the same line at the beginning of each stanza. In other words, the beginning line of each stanza can be different. The first four syllables of line 5 in each stanza are repeated as the double-refrain for lines 7 and 8. The Trijan Refrain is a rhyming poem with a set meter and rhyme scheme as follows: Rhyme scheme: a/b/a/b/c/c/d,d refrain of first 4 syllables of line five /c Meter: 8/6/8/6/8/8/4,4 refrain/8 The artwork is courtesy of Microsoft ClipArt. |
By Treischel
In the Garden of Life
(A Free Verse Poem)
Children
are like
flowers in a garden,
as they grow.
They need
food,
attention,
loving sunshine,
And
the waters of our wisdom.
Then
they'll glow!
Their colors show!
I love
to watch them blossom,
to play...to learn...to try,
and sometimes
even cry.
They become
little people
right before our eyes.
They have natural curiosity
and learn
and grow
so very fast.
If you teach them
patiently,
the lessons
really last.
Sometimes
they need stern guidance.
Sometimes
you have to bend.
But
I find it's always worth it,
Because,
in the end,
when they grow up,
you have a friend.
| Author Notes |
This is my grandson, Blake, out camping with me in Northern Wisconsin.
I took this photograph in September, 2011 while camping with my son Sean's family at Two Lakes, near Hayward, Wisconsin. |
By Treischel
OH Creation!
What wondrous works, this world of ours!
OH Creation!
Blue oceans deep, to cosmic stars,
True elation!
And yet, what tragic travesty,
That man pollutes its majesty.
Truly an abomination!
OH Creation!
We desecrate this home of ours.
Desolation!
Blue Planet filled with open scars,
Deprivation.
Our fish are full of mercury,
Resources are not luxury.
Need much more consideration!
OH Creation!
| Author Notes |
What are we doing?
This poem is an Octogram.The Octogram is a style of poetry invented by Fanstorian Sally Yocom (S.Yocom). It consists of two stanzas of eight lines each, with a very specific syllable count and rhyme scheme. Syllable count is 84848884, repeat on second stanza. Rhyme scheme: aBabccbB ababddbB, where B repeats same text. No more than 16 lines. The tempo is tetrameter on the 8 count line, and dimeter on the 4 count line, but not iambic. Contest Picture Is The Sand Boat by MinoYasue. |
By Treischel
Rumors
(A Hesitatelet Poem)
Rumors have a vicious bite.
They sting!
Where truth isn't always in sight.
A fling!
They often hurt.
They're lies!
They toss the dirt.
She cries!
So, if you're alert.
It dies.
Respect each person's dignity.
Think first!
We need a loving community.
Not worst!
So, don't prolong a rumor's life.
Move on!
They're like cutting with a knife.
It's wrong!
You can reduce the cause of strife.
Be strong!
Kill a rumor.
Offer humor!
| Author Notes |
Just an Experiment in Style
This is a Hesitatelet poem, sponsored by Ritchie, 9999pool. I came across this while reviewing his poem, Mama's Last Words. Here's his notes. This is a new form/style developed by 'Cookie333" called "Hesitatelet" with the following rules: For every non-rhyming couplets of two (2) lines - Line 1: A complete sentence, or multiple complete sentence combinations (noun/subject and verb or with adjective, if desired) Line 2: A two-word statement expressing a motion or commotion (contractions are suitable and count only as one word. For example: I'm, it's) consists of a subject with a verb or adjective (two words total). The main essence is the hesitation of this 2nd line which allows readers to 'pause' and reflect - hence a 'hesitation' and the name 'Hesitatelet'. So here's my first attempt at it. This picture is one I took of my daughter using a kaleidoscope method. |
By Treischel
Freedom's Price
When dreary death treads on fallow fields of woe,
Where life is savored sweetly as souls survive.
As wounds are bound, and the winds of victory blow,
Battlefields are slowly cleared by those alive.
We grieve for those lost, whose sacrifice was made
For freedom freely given as prices paid.
We much too often take these things for granted,
Forgetting how dear freedom's seeds were planted.
| Author Notes |
Freedom is not Free. Fourth of July, Memorial Day, and Veteran's Day are more than just days off, to play.
This poem is a Tuscan Strombata. Tuscan Strombata ...4 couplets, 11 syllables per line, ababccdd rhyming. Thank you for this wonderful patriotic art piece, Price of Independence by donkeyoatey at FanArt Review.com. |
By Treischel
Temptation
Who are we?
Who are we?
To be as tempted as the Lord
By Satan
And his evil horde.
Jesus showed the way!
Jesus showed the way!
When Christ met the Devil,
Jesus
Showed the way.
From the Gospel of Matthew.
He walked the burning sands for forty days
Sandal seared feet and tortured tongue all dry
To purify and pray; to set the way.
Then Satan came to tempt and ask him, "Why"?
"Just change the stones."
"Just change the stones."
"You can change the stones to bread, if you try."
Jerusalem, alone on Temple top,
The Evil One took Jesus to implore,
To let his body drop: for God will stop
The fall, before the body hits the floor.
"The angels will come".
"The angels will come".
"The angels will come, and hold you up".
Before him, kingdoms of the world were spread,
All might and power promised to control,
If Master of Dread is worshiped ahead
Of God; he brashly asked Him to extol.
"Just worship me."
"Just worship me. "
"Just worship me, it is yours", Satan said.
"Be gone Satan".
"Be gone Satan".
"Be gone. To worship the true Lord's my goal".
When Satan fled from stench of his misdeeds,
The angels came and tended to His needs
So
Don't give up
Don't give up
When temptation has come on
Tell Satan
To "Be Gone".
| Author Notes |
We learn from His example
Grateful appreciation for the picture: Why do they? by Angelheart of FanArt Review.com. |
By Treischel
Marvelous Treat
Dragged myself out of morning's bed.
Shuffled tired feet to kitchen stove.
Brewed black coffee to clear my head.
Marvelous treat, my cup of jove!
My bleary eyes can't focus yet,
As around the house I rove,
Sipping brew, watching TV set.
Marvelous treat, my cup of jove!
In slight stupor, I drink and wait,
Reclined in my own neat alcove.
It clears my mind, I'm thinking straight.
Marvelous treat, my cup of jove!
Marvelous treat, my cup of jove!
Marvelous treat.
| Author Notes |
Just waking up
Quatrains in abab rhyming. Syllable count 8. Added some trailing refrains Jove is slang for coffee. The picture is the author's |
By Treischel
Historical News
On rocky shoals of ancient seas,
Amidst the rocks and shells,
Are fossils of a distant past,
Their locked-in image tells.
Different things,
With bony wings,
And scaly lizard skin.
Much larger bones,
As hard as stones,
Their secrets locked within.
The paleontologists study,
As they try to perceive,
The meaning of these mysteries,
We find hard to believe.
Study the past,
So long and vast
Mulling over the clues.
To put to test
What was guessed.
Late historical news.
| Author Notes |
To an Archeologist, studying fossils is like reading a book written millions of years ago. Late edition news.
This poem has a syllable structure of 8/6/8/6 4/4/6/4/4/6, repeated once for each. The rhyme scheme is abcb ddeffe, repeated once. The photograph is from Yahoo Images. |
By Treischel
Puzzle Pieces
(Free Verse Quatrains)
Final pieces in a puzzle,
Can recognize those last few shapes.
Amazed, how they fit together,
Each having their own assigned place.
Look so much like one another,
But each one is truly unique.
Takes them all to fit together
To create a splendid art piece.
Such it is with men and women,
Each so different , yet so unique.
Diversity fits together
In a lovely creation piece.
| Author Notes |
I finished another puzzle. While putting in the final pieces I thought of this poem.
This poem has non-rhymed quatrains. The syllable count is 8. I took this photograph specifically for this poem. |
By Treischel
Pilgrim Patriots
(A 5A Poem Suite)
Pilgrim Patriots
Traded their tools to
Fight for freedom first
Founding Fathers fought
Loosing Liberty
Dealt Democracy
Independence In
Monarchy made mute
Ends Enfranchisement
New notions noted
Declarations Done
Awesome acts acclaimed
| Author Notes |
Happy Fourth of July
This poem is a set of 4 5A Poems interlinked by topic. The "5A" new format style was developed by Fanstorian DRG24. *The 5A is composed of three lines: Line 1 - 5 Syllables Line 2 - 5 Syllables Line 3 - 5 Syllables All lines must have TOTAL alliteration. Lines can be chosen in any order. The "5" stands for the five syllable count while the "A" stands for the Alliteration. The artwork is from Microsoft ClipArt. |
By Treischel
Birthday USA
(A Tetractys Poem)
Hope,
Freedom,
Welcoming Plea,
Red White and Blue,
Land of Liberty and Home of the Brave!
Happy Birthday!
| Author Notes |
A Fourth of July Poem of celebration.
This poem is a Tetractys. A Tetractys is a short expressive poem of just 5 lines. it has a fixed syllable format of 1/2/3/4/10. It is may contain rhyme, but usually doesn't. In this poem I also added a closing exclamation. The artwork is from Microsoft ClipArt. |
By Treischel
Lethal Legacy
(A Sonnet)
Those beating hearts driven, to pounding of the drums,
With flags unfurled and snapping, to the battle hum.
No-man's land between them, two armies that have come
To prove in battle, whose God is the chosen one.
Pope Urban set in motion, with words -"It's God's Will",
Unleashed crusades for Holy Land, loosing bloody spill.
He granted an indulgence to forgive all sin,
To take back Jerusalem, the great prize to win.
And so we find two armies, here on holy ground,
Where reaper's grim destruction will too soon abound.
With endless seeds of hatred sown on blood-soaked soil
Now carried over eons, fueled by faith and oil.
And so the lines stand ready, it's so sad to say,
That hatred planted then, is still in play today.
| Author Notes |
In 1095, Pope Urban II launches the first crusades with the words - Deus Vult, "God wills it", that became the war cry. He also offered plenary indulgences to those who took up the cause, meaning all their earthly sins would be forgiven in heaven. Jerusalem was captured in 1099. The battle lines are still drawn today between Christian and Muslim. At least, at the fanatical fringes.
This sonnet carries the 3 abab rhymed quatrains with a closing rhymed couplet for the traditional 14 line sonnet. I wrote this one in iambic hexameter (twelve syllables, 6 iambic feet) The artwork is from Yahoo Images |
By Treischel
Upward
(12 Line Exhortation)
Upward!
Like the Egret soars on the wind,
As tethered souls spirit's unpinned
When the wheels of fortune are spinned.
Moving forward,
Always upward,
Take complete charge of coming day.
As the tears and fears fall away,
The fogs are all cleared from yesterday.
Don't need to stop!
Go to the top!
Upward!
| Author Notes |
For those recovering or who need a lift.
Spinned - poetic license on this word. This poem is a 12 Line Exhortation. I researched poetry types with 12 Lines to see what they are called. I found a group of poems called 12 Lines. But they are basically unstructured. I wanted some specific structure. I wanted a poem with 3 consecutive lines of rhyme, that played off 8/4/2 syllable counts and was positive in spirit. So I created this format and called it 12 Line Exhortation. I don't think this format previously exists, as far as I know. Let me know if otherwise. Here are the rules. A 12 Line Exhortation is a poem with 12 lines, starting and ending with a 2 syllable line that caries an exhortation, like; Get up!, Move on! Go jump! The whole syllable structure is; 2/8/8/8/4/4/8/8/8/4/4/2. There is also a fixed rhyme scheme of: AbbbaacccddA, where the capital letters are repeated lines. The photograph is one of a Great White Egret in flight, taken by the author in July 2012 at Battle Creek park in Maplewood, Minnesota. |
By Treischel
Wake-up!
(12 Line Exhortation)
Wake up!
A wide world is out there to see,
Have some fun with your family.
Take a chance to hug any tree!
Get off your butt!
Out of the rut!
Don't become a depressing fool,
Go find an adventure that's cool,
Maybe, take a dip in the pool.
Freezing splatter
Doesn't matter!
Wake up!
| Author Notes |
Do something!
This poem is a 12 Line Exhortation. I researched poetry types with 12 Lines to see what they are called. I found a group of poems called 12 Lines. But they are basically unstructured. I wanted some specific structure. I wanted a poem with 3 consecutive lines of rhyme, that played off 8/4/2 syllable counts and was positive in spirit. So I created this format and called it 12 Line Exhortation. I don't think this format previously exists, as far as I know. Let me know if otherwise. Here are the rules. A 12 Line Exhortation is a poem with 12 lines, starting and ending with a 2 syllable line that caries an exhortation, like; Get up!, Move on! Go jump! The whole syllable structure is; 2/8/8/8/4/4/8/8/8/4/4/2. There is also a fixed rhyme scheme of: AbbbaacccddA, where the capital letters are repeated lines. I took this photograph at Como Town in St. Paul, Minnesota in July 2012 on a day it was over 100 degrees and 90% humidity. |
By Treischel
Yellowed Door
(A Word Weave)
Beginnings start to open new windows,
So only you use every yellowed door.
Right through holes step pointless shadows,
Spill life's strength, heated deep....Pore.
Evermore, evermore.
| Author Notes |
Don't be afraid to explore life.
This poem is a word weave. I thought this up on my own, but it may exist as some formal format that I'm not aware of. The idea is to write a poem where each word is followed by the next word using the last letter of the word before it. Hence the weave. I made it rhyme, but I guess it wouldn't have to. The trick is to make sense of the poetic theme. It's harder than you might think. This picture is from Microsoft ClipArt. |
By Treischel
Rejoice our Nation!
(A 12 Line Exhortation)
Rejoice!
The founding of our great nation
Is worthy of celebration
With pyrotechnic elation.
Rocket deploys
Making much noise.
Flashing colors make the crowds cheer.
Delight in the flight of passing year,
Patriotism, loud and clear!
The colors bloom!
Kaboom! Kaboom!
Rejoice!
| Author Notes |
Fourth of July Celebration
This Poem is a 12 Line Exhortation. I researched poetry types with 12 Lines to see what they are called. I found a group of poems called 12 Lines. But they are basically unstructured. I wanted some specific structure. I wanted a poem with 3 consecutive lines of rhyme, that played off 8/4/2 syllable counts and was positive in spirit. So I created this format and called it 12 Line Exhortation. I don't think this format previously exists, as far as I know. Let me know if otherwise. Here are the rules. A 12 Line Exhortation is a poem with 12 lines, starting and ending with a 2 syllable line that caries an exhortation, like; Get up!, Move on! Go jump! The whole syllable structure is; 2/8/8/8/4/4/8/8/8/4/4/2. There is also a fixed rhyme scheme of: AbbbaacccddA, where the capital letters are repeated lines. I took this photograph last night in my front yard, July 4, 2013. The neighborhood put on their own show. |
By Treischel
They Grow Up
(A Mike's Touch Poem)
Teach your children well,
They grow up!
Learn to read and spell,
At a gallop!
When you give your time,
It's sublime!
Lessons shared so well,
They will worship.
You become mentor,
Their center.
They will sit a spell,
Without hiccup.
Teach them how to fish.
Grant their wish!
They will soon excel.
Fill up their cup!
In their hearts you'll dwell!
They grow up!
Fond mem'ries compell,
Let them build up.
Teach your children well,
They grow up!
Too soon it's farewell,
At a gallop!
| Author Notes |
It is very important to share your time with your children. They grow so fast.
This poem format is called a Mike's Touch. I learned it from Gungalo, who says it was created in 2009. The quatrains have a fixed format of 5/3/5/4. The key is that lines 3 and 4's rhyme must repeat in every stanza. There is no limit on the number of stanzas. The first two lines can either be free verse or rhymed. They can vary. For this poem, I chose a rhyme scheme of: abab ccab ddab eeab abab abab. I took this picture of a man teaching his boys how to fish, in silhouette, at Sheteck State Park of Southwestern Minnesota, in August 2012. |
By Treischel
Sunburn
(Free Verse Wordweave)
Copious sunshine,
| Author Notes |
Ouch!
This poem is a Word Weave I thought this up on my own, but it may exist as some formal format that I'm not aware of. The idea is to write a poem where each word is followed by the next word using the last letter of the word before it. Hence the weave. It can either rhyme or be free verse. The trick is to make sense of the poetic theme. It's harder than you might think. This picture is from Yahoo Images |
By Treischel
Learning
(A Free Verse)
How does one learn?
| Author Notes |
Children learn so naturally.
While out walking at a State Park I spotted these children learning to fish from their dad. I caught them in sihlouette. i thought this would make a perfect back drop for this poem. This picture was taken by the Author at Blue Mounds State Park of Southwestern Minnesota, in August 2012. |
By Treischel
Knit Thoughts
(A Conachlonn Poem)
When each we weave our true life's tale,
Pale colors intertwine with bright,
Right as knitter's needle tips sail
Avail the stitch's pattern's plight.
Plight that each soul is tightly drawn
On a path of celestial hue
Anew we get to greet each dawn
Gone along model's task to do.
True to sense of created plan
Man muddles along unknown, then
Again master wraps yarn he can
Span the twist 'til the next of when.
| Author Notes |
I watched my wife knitting. It got me thinking this.
This poem is a Conachlonn. Conachlonn: An Irish form of chain verse. There can be any number of syllables per line. The first word of each line must rhyme with the final word of the preceding line. The first and last words of the poem should rhyme or be the same. I used a syllable count of 8, and a rhyme scheme of abab. This is a picture of a washcloth my wife is making. |
By Treischel
Message to My Muse
(A Conachlonn Poem)
Touch gently now the spirit of my soul,
Whole worlds to be released in reverie,
Free thoughts taking on the grand story's role,
Goal to unleash poetic energy.
Energy lives within a mystic pool,
Cool me today with that healing water,
Broader brook than the reach of British rule.
Cruel Muse, you're such a demanding daughter.
Bother me still each day until I die
Try to teach poetic truths just as much
Such as may forever can apply
Deny me not the wizard's magic touch.
| Author Notes |
Nature frequently stimulates my Muse. Its beauty surely does touch my soul.
The poem is a Conachlonn. Conachlonn: An Irish form of chain verse. There can be any number of syllables per line. The first word of each line must rhyme with the final word of the preceding line. The first and last words of the poem should rhyme or be the same. I used a syllable count of 10, and a rhyme scheme of abab. Had a bit of trouble rhyming water, and resorted to near rhyme broader and bother. This photograph is from my collection. I took it in fall 2011. The colors I hope convey the message I was trying to get across - beautiful bounty in Nature. |
By Treischel
Final Feelings of the Day
(Free Verse)
Before
The sadness sets in,
Before
Darkness swallows all,
Look around to see what's right,
Instead of dwelling on what's wrong.
Light a candle,
Let it glow.
Count the blessings of the day,
Reflect on others worse travails,
Be glad in what you had today,
And,
If you can,
Share some joy with fellow man.
Feel
How
All
Your
Senses
Are at play.
So, smile
Forgive
Rejoice
Live.
All the while,
Share the love.
Look forward to
Tomorrow.
| Author Notes |
A reminder to myself
The day I was laid off due to plant shutdown (then I elected retirement), within 2 hours of my exit, I went camping. This picture is of that first sunset. |
By Treischel
Broken Door
In deserted building I did explore,
I came across the remnants of a tree.
There were needles scattered upon the floor,
The ghost of former Christmas reverie.
It lay there all forgotten and forlorn,
In lone abandoned corner, dark and dim.
No longer lights and tinsel did adorn
Its broken limbs that were no longer trim.
Some shattered fragments of a crystal orb
And a clip that once held an ornament,
The scene was such as to make me absorb,
A family once lived, laughed, and paid the rent.
Such thoughts were mine as I went to explore,
And ventured out once past a broken door.
| Author Notes |
An abandoned building. What ghosts remain within?
This poem was inspired by the poem I posted yesterday, Forest Find, and a dialog I had with ravenblack. This is a photograph I took of an abandoned building in March, 2012. |
By Treischel
California Fires
( Sonnet)
There's smoky tendrils carried on the wind
From fire in the California hills.
As their very expensive homes are thinned,
No one laments the wildlife it kills.
Each year it seems the story is the same,
The flames consume vast stretches of the state.
Officials wonder where to place the blame,
As homeowners ponder property's fate.
Whole neighborhoods sadly destroyed by fire.
With families left bereft of all they own,
Their shattered dreams consumed in burning pyre,
The victims face their tragedy alone.
Takes years before the scenery is replaced,
And clear financial burdens that they faced.
| Author Notes |
In the News again. California burns every year, it seems with great cost to families, wildlife, and the environment.
This is a Sonnet in iambic pentameter. There are two troublesome words in it that can be pronounced with either two or three syllables: families, scenery. For this poem they are intended as two. The picture is from Microsoft ClipArt. |
By Treischel
The Music Shows
(Quatrians)
I've really enjoyed this TV season,
Since it's been loaded with music and soul.
Lovely melody and song the reason,
Less violence and sex, more rockin' and roll.
I've been tuning in to Nashville and Glee,
Smash, American Idol, and the Voice.
Music programs are much better to me
For pure entertainment, they're the best choice.
So go, pull up the most comfortable chair,
And get ready to start those toes tappin'.
Take a brief moment to let down your hair,
And just see what the music makes happen.
| Author Notes |
I love these Shows
Quatrains. Pentameter. ABAB Rhyming. The picture is from Microsoft ClipArt. |
By Treischel
Primordial Ooze
Creatures crawling in primordial ooze
Evolve slowly upon the path they choose.
Will they become creatures of the deep?
Will they climb out upon the earth to creep?
Then grow leather or feather wings to fly?
Or hard hooves on strong legs to gallop by?
These things are the thoughts I have as I stroll
Along a swampy path to search my soul,
And ponder the impact of mankind's role.
| Author Notes |
Just some thoughts.
aabb Rhyming Syllable count 10 This photograph was the Muse for this poem. It is one I took in July 2012 at the Maplewood Nature Center, which has a boardwalk across it's swamp land. This scene just seems so ancient, so promordial, that is got me thinking. |
By Treischel
Ashamed
I've been a Republican all of my life,
But these days I'm ashamed.
When there's nothing but uncompromising strife,
All votes seem to be gamed.
When looming problems are urgently rife,
They worry who gets blamed.
As violence is prevalent by gun and knife
Lawmakers fail to take aim.
| Author Notes |
I am angry, sad, and ashamed that our lawmakers can't provide enough leadership to even pass gun background check legislation. Come on! And it seems it's the Republicans that are being obstinate right down Party Lines.
I watched Face the Nation yesterday and was heartbroken by the interviews of the Sandy Hook relatives who were so disappointed at their trip to Washington DC. to influence the vote. My gosh, what will it take! This is a picture of me that I took off my Ipad this morning. Less my glasses, that provided too much glare. Incredulous me. |
By Treischel
Innocent Blood
(A Lisalet Poem)
Oh Weep! For the Innocent Blood of our babies,
Unsafe in their classrooms or their own city streets.
Collateral Damage in a world of maybes,
Struck down early by terror and cowardly cheats.
Unsafe in their classrooms or their own city streets,
From Doctor tongs, gun clips, and terrorist rabies,
Torn away from mothers in unheard silent bleats.
Oh Weep! For the Innocent Blood of our babies.
Collateral Damage in a world of maybes,
Unexpected, unprepared for dangers each meets.
Terror reigns from the muzzle or bomb-filled cabbies
Unsafe in their classrooms or their own city streets.
Struck down early by terror and cowardly cheats.
Pray for tiny lost souls in churches and abbeys
To uphold the precious lives that terror deletes,
Collateral Damage in a world of maybes.
Oh Weep! For the Innocent Blood of our babies!
| Author Notes |
A cry to Heaven. I included terrorism bombings, war, shootings, and abortions in this lament. All innocent souls destroyed by acts of mankind.
This a Lisalet Poem, a style created by Lisa Sherman on FanStory, that has a fixed format of repeating lines and, when rhymed, a forced set of only two rhyme choices in an abab rhyme scheme. The format repeats the first four lines in a structured reverse cascade down the stanzas follows: 1/2/3/4 2/5/6/1 3/7/8/2 4/9/10/3, such that the stanzas incorporate the repeating lines as 1/2 2/1 3/2 4/3 as the first and last lines of each stanza. The optional rhyme scheme becomes ABCD BabA CbcB DcdC, although C and D also rhyme with AB, and the capitals represent the repeated lines. I hope that all makes sense. I chose the syllable count to be 12, but that is not a requirement. Much thanks for the art piece, Pure Intuition (1994) by Gregory John on FanArtReview.com |
By Treischel
Slipping Away
(5-7-5 Poetry)
Slip Slipping Away
Sliding down slippery slope
Shifting sands betray
Undermining hope
Disaster on disaster
Foundations decay
| Author Notes |
Crumblimg Foundations
This picture is on of the Author's photographs. |
By Treischel
Troubled Sky
(A Triolet Poem)
Hear the thunder in troubled sky,
A loud warning of rain and wind,
Bellowing out it's darkened cry.
Hear the thunder in troubled sky,
The portents may be asking 'why".
Does this proclaim how we have sinned?
Hear the thunder in troubled sky,
A loud warning of rain and wind.
| Author Notes |
Whether the weather or current events, the skys are troubled. We've had another foot of snow last night. Digging out.
This photograph is one of the author's collection.Taken in September 2011. |
By Treischel
Boston Lament
OH Boston, you bleed!
The terrorist's schemes have taken the innocent instead
Of the true Target of Hate.
Shedding blameless blood!
A coward's act,
The faultless dead,
The Evil in our streets.
Forgive their tormentors!
Lord!
For they know not what they do!
These new souls,
Have loosed the troubled bonds of earth.
Are running in higher fields.
| Author Notes |
Had to say this!
Capitalization intentional. Picture from Microsoft ClipArt |
By Treischel
When
When
You touch
The mighty hand
Of God
Will
It burn?
When
You see
The awesome face
Of God
Will
It blind?
When
You hear
The thunderous voice
In heaven
Will
You know?
At last ... at last!
| Author Notes |
Hmm
Author's photograph |
By Treischel
Sweet Music
(A Sonnet Echo)
Sweet music makes a world-redeeming whole.
Without it, can't imagine how we'd be,
But life would lose delightful symmetry.
It echoes through the fibers of my soul,
With rhythms that fulfill life's gaping hole,
Of melodies that sooth the savage beast,
Or keep the couples dancing at the feast.
It echoes through the fibers of my soul,
That plays a temperament relaxing role.
The sounds bring background beauty to the world,
As soft symphonic soundbites are unfurled,
It echoes through the fibers of my soul.
Sweet music makes a world-redeeming whole,
It echoes through the fibers of my soul.
| Author Notes |
Were would we be without music?
This poem is an Echo Sonnet. My second one. I was introduced to it by Gungalo. ECHO SONNET: This is a relatively new form devised by the well respected English Poet, Jeff Green. It takes its shape from three envelope quatrains and a couplet, the last line of each stanza is a refrain that links the quatrains and gives us a rhyme scheme of: A, b, b, A1, a, c, c, A1, a, d, d, A1, A, A1 Where the first A sets the A rhyme and repeats once in line 13. The A1 of line 4 matches the rhyme set in A, but is a distinct repeating line that echoes 3 more times in lines 8,12 and 14. This type poem, then, has 4 rhyme sets of A, b, c, and d. The Echo Sonnet is based on French repeating forms, but unlike those forms which are normally syllabic, the preferred rhyme scheme is Iambic pentameter, or similar, and being a sonnet it should be presented as a 14 line poem. In this one, i tried to make the repeating A1 line carry a refrain that resonates. The artwork is from Microsoft Images. |
By Treischel
Winds of Change
When first the seasons change,
I hear the howling wind
Just slightly out of range,
Of hopes that once were pinned.
I hear the howling wind
Blowing a long sad song,
Of hopes that once were pinned
On dreams that came along.
Blowing a long sad song
That sounds so very strange,
On dreams that came along
On the wind, Wind of Change.
That sounds so very strange,
An unrelenting blow,
On the wind, Wind of Change.
Alters courses you go.
An unrelenting blow
Will make you rearrange.
Alters courses you go,
When first the seasons change.
| Author Notes |
Like the changing season, sometimes we have to change too, in the face of shattered dreams. Sometimes that's just growing up. Other times it's just facing reality. Celebrate the changes carried on the wind.
This poem is a Pantuom. A pantoum is a poem that is made up of quatrains. In a pantoum the second and fourth lines of the previous stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the next stanza. I also repeated the first line as the last line. The tempo of the verse is to a syllable count of 6. The rhyme scheme is abab. The picture is a photograph taken by the Author. |
By Treischel
Look Both Ways
(12 Line Exhortation)
Look out!
Just because you're in a hurry,
And your schedule's in such flurry,
Think you really need to hurry,
While on your route,
Please look about.
Traffic comes from each direction,
When you're at an intersection,
Don't be lost in fool's perplexion,
Head in a daze.
Please check both ways!
LOOK OUT!
| Author Notes |
Remember what your Momma told you!
For the contest. This poem is a 12 Line Exhortation. I thought it would be the perfect format to use in this contest. What better for a admonition than an exhortation! A 12 Line Exhortation is a poem with 12 lines, starting and ending with a 2 syllable line that caries an exhortation, like; Get up!, Move on! Go jump! The whole syllable structure is; 2/8/8/8/4/4/8/8/8/4/4/2. There is also a fixed rhyme scheme of: AbbbaacccddA, where the capital letters are repeated lines of the Exhortation. The picture is from Yahoo Images. |
By Treischel
Sacred Places of Earth
Pilgrims feel vibrations flow at
Sacred places of Earth.
Far beyond human habitat
Are vistas of rebirth.
Down canyon walls
Drop waterfalls,
Sparkling like a jewel.
On mountain high,
Where eagles fly,
Souls can find renewal
Himalayas
Inspire us,
But dangerously cruel.
If you embrace
Their ancient face,
You might become the fool.
The flowers grow in row on row
In colors, in the wild.
While autumn leaves put on a show,
Delighting any child.
Waves of grain
And sugar cane,
Harvested and planted.
The ocean shores
And valley floors,
Taken much for granted.
And we may be
Found up a tree,
If Nature recanted.
Without the tools,
We are the fools
Who just raved and ranted.
We view in awe Grand Canyon's maw,
Vastness of the ocean,
To marvel at the sights we saw
- Creation in motion.
We long to know
The undertow,
Of the ultimate plan.
We pick and choose,
We search for news
Discover what we can.
If we reveal
The sacred seal,
Will it unite the clan?
It's in the air,
To find it there,
Since primal time began.
Knowledge revealed in layered stone,
Alive in colored canyon,
While science sifts through ancient bone
Sorting fact from fiction
The oceans flow.
Sequoias grow,
In forests full of life.
The lessons told
Grow weary old.
The point, a sharpened knife.
As we believe
That we can leave
The imprints of our strife
Without much harm
To Nature's charm
Such delusions run rife
Pilgrims feel vibrations flow at
Sacred places of Earth.
Far beyond human habitat
Are vistas of rebirth.
| Author Notes |
I just sort of rambled on this one and let the verse take me where it wanted to go. My thought were on the beautiful places on Earth. I had watched some programs about Mount Everest and also the Grand Canyon. Of course beauty is everywhere, and to me, the beauty that we take for granted, is sacred.
This poem doesn't have a name to the format. I just sort of winged it. It does have structure though. The syllable count is as follows: 8686 446 446 446 446 repeated 3 times. The rhyme scheme is: abab ccd eed ffd ggd, repeated 3 times. Then a repeat of stanza 1 at the end. This photograph is a shoreline shot of Lake Superior taken by the author at Tetegouchee State Park in northern Minnesota. Lake Superior has always been considered a sacred place. |
By Treischel
Oh Water
(An Ode to Water in Free Style))
Oh, Water!
Water in my body,
Water in my soul,
A crazy composition
That keeps me whole.
It drips,
It rains,
It splashes,
It flows.
I can put my tootsies in it
And wiggle my toes
When
I get near water,
It creates a soothing Calm,
A
Primal-like reaction,
That becomes a soothing balm.
Oh, water!
I'm like a fish to water.
It just seems
A part of me.
It is!
Anywhere I saunter,
Whether
River,
Lake,
or
Sea,
It becomes a reality
To me!
Oh, Water!
Water sets me free!
I'll drink it!
I'll swim it!
I'll put a paddle in it!
There simply is no limit
To what water does for me!
Oh, Water!
Water in my body,
Water in my soul,
A crazy composition
That keeps me whole.
| Author Notes |
Some free style thoughts on water and me.
Free Style has no for formal structure, but does carry rhyme. The picture is a photograph taken by the author at Lake Phalen in St. Paul, Minnesota, near sunset. Unknown paddler. |
By Treischel
Loved One's Lament
(A Canzone)
I feel cold rain drops splashing upon my skin.
It dampens my mood within.
These liquid drops falling heavy from the sky,
Match the tears that wet my eyes.
Like tiny water bombs, they hit - then explode!
Dreams, my own, sadly implode.
Rivulets run rapidly across my face.
On my knees I pray for grace.
This stormy sky, suddenly as black as coal,
Reflects pain gripping my soul.
As raging sky rains wrath upon Mother Earth,
This vision contests my worth.
With white water rising 'round me rapidly,
Fight to free the Thee in me
While mighty flood gates hold back the water's flow
I refuse to let you go!
I find I'm weeping on consecrated ground
With dark wet stones all around.
As the angry cloud bursts wildly weep with me,
You're off to eternity.
Your spirit's gone, leaving only skin and bone,
And I am left here alone,
Sadly sodden, and alone.
| Author Notes |
Just a poem about the sadness of a loved one's passing and the devastation felt.
This poem is structured with 5 each 4 line stanzas in a fixed format of rhyme and syllable count. The syllable count is 11/7/11/7 and the rhyme scheme is abab. I closed it an Envoi of 3 lines of 11/7/7, and mono-rhymed rhyme scheme. It may be a Canzone. Literally "song" in Italian, a canzone (plural: canzoni) (cognate with English to chant) is an Italian or Provençal song or ballad. It is also used to describe a type of lyric which resembles a madrigal. Sometimes a composition which is simple and songlike is designated as a canzone, especially if it is by a non-Italian. Derived from the Provençal canso, the very lyrical and original Italian canzone consists of 5 to 7 stanzas typically set to music, each stanza resounding the first in rhyme scheme and in number of lines (7 to 20 lines). The canzone is typically hendecasyllabic (11 syllables). This photograph was taken by the author. |
By Treischel
Life's Tempest
Just as the howling wind commenced,
Ran forth with shoulders pushed against
The pressures of unnumbered hours
That vie to steal the sense of our
Allotted time upon this earth.
As lives are thrusted towards the grave,
Whence we came squalling from our birth,
Severely tested 'bout our worth,
Exchanging freely pain and mirth,
Ensconced within close cloistered cave,
Young children play in blameless bliss,
So sheltered from such world as this.
They play at being bold and brave,
Secure in seeking love they crave,
Too young to quite foresee the dearth
Of knowledge of impending death.
If they did, they'd surely cower
From fate that cannot be defensed.
With sin's decree of death dispensed,
Share the fate of wilting flower.
| Author Notes |
We all share the same fate. We protect our children from that knowledge as long as we can. Eventually they experience it around them.
This poem is written in tetrameter(8 Syllables per line). Most lines are iambic having a tempo of da Dum da Dum, except the two lines that end with "cower" and "flower", which are trochaic(the opposite of iambic, having a tempo of Da dum Da dum). It has a complex rhyme scheme of: aabbcdcccdeeddccbaab The artwork was taken from Yahoo Images that are royalty free care of artsbyWicks.com. |
By Treischel
Worldly Rhythms
(Compound Sonnet)
In dark of night, so brightly shines the moon.
Its lovely glow invites a lonely tune,
A Harvest Moon song, full of yearning soul
That echoes through this night as black as coal,
As haunting as the calling of the Loon
While pleading for its mate from lost lagoon.
The moonbeams shed their light upon the shoal
As waves of water softly splash and roll.
In daylight now, so brightly shines the sun,
That spreads its warming heat on everyone
To bring another sunshine blessed day,
A true delightful time in every way,
Where children will so freely find their fun,
And people go 'round getting projects done.
But whether daylight brings up work or play,
The hours pass along without delay.
In dark again, so brightly shine the stars
That twinkle light upon this world of ours,
To sparkle their soft glow in lover's eyes,
Entwined so tightly to entice soft sighs,
While parked at Lover's Lane in motor cars,
In conjunction with Jupiter and Mars.
When stardust's magic formula applies,
There are no mood restraining alibi's.
Celestial forces drive this lovely world.
While daily senses get all pushed and twirled,
Our planet from the East to West gets whirled,
As lives are lived when rhythms are unfurled.
| Author Notes |
Day and night are functions of the cosmos that push and pull on us and our world.
This poem was inspired by Gungalo's Compound Poem, I'll Be There. This poem is a Compound Sonnet. A Compound Sonnet is basically a Sonnet with every thing doubled or compounded. Compound sonnet: 28 lines of iambic pentameter composed of three octaves and a concluding quatrain. Rhyme pattern is: aabbaabb for the first octave, ccddccdd for the second, eeffeeff for the third and gggg. This is a photograph of the moon taken by the author. |
By Treischel
come to a crossroad
many directions to choose
congress pay your bills
| Author Notes |
Our future generations depend on it
My own photo |
By Treischel
Feeling Uprooted
(An Octogram)
Life leaves feelings to run away.
Feeling uprooted,
As problems plague you day-to-day.
Just not suited
To seek solace desperately,
When not as grounded as a tree
And soil about is polluted.
Feeling Uprooted!
Attempts to fix this, I dare say,
Are saluted!
But, just haven't worked, anyway.
Hopes diluted!
Need to flee now, at a gallop.
All anchor ties have been pulled up.
Escape Plan B, now executed!
Feeling uprooted!
| Author Notes |
Fight or flight. Is pulling up roots and running away the solution? Maybe for some. Sometimes pulling up roots isn't your choice, as many Native Americans found out. Holocaust victims probably believe those who fled were the smart one's. What does a battered wife do? Sometimes others live with unbearable pain. Economic turmoil can leave you homeless. Many are uprooted for various reasons.
This poem is an Octogram. The Octogram is a style of poetry invented by Fanstorian Sally Yocom (S.Yocom). It consists of two stanzas of eight lines each, with a very specific syllable count and rhyme scheme. Syllable count is 84848884, repeat on second stanza. Rhyme scheme: aBabccbB ababddbB, where B repeats same text. No more than 16 lines. The photograph was taken by the author at Harriet Island in St. Paul, Minnesota in January,2012. |
By Treischel
Sweet and Sour Sin
(Quatrains)
Sweet and sour taste of sin
Slowly churns the thoughts within.
As the battle with my conscience
Has resistance wearing thin.
While desire's pull is strong
I know what's right and what's wrong.
Know I should be so much better
When temptation comes along.
But alas, I was so feeble
Against this tempting evil,
Until I heard a church bell
Ringing loudly in the vale.
I asked the Lord to guide me
When standing right beside me
Was the presence of our Savior,
Cleansing evil thoughts inside me.
Praise the Lord!
| Author Notes |
Sin can be so tempting. We are not strong enough alone.
This poem is simple Quatrains with mixed 8/7 tempo, Rhyme scheme is: aaba Thanks to VMarguarite on FanArtReview.com for this wonderful art piece called Hand of Faith. |
By Treischel
If a Rock Could Talk
(AAAB Quatrains with 10/5 Meter)
What mysteries are written in a stone?
I've often pondered this while I'm alone.
Does it contain secrets of things foreknown?
If a rock could talk.
I see striations on its marbled face,
And evidence of fracture near its base.
Such a hidden history it must trace.
If a rock could talk.
Has it been here since the time Earth was formed?
Was it thrown from volcano as it warmed?
Or, was pressure the mode by which transformed?
If a rock could talk.
What awesome forces played that placed it here,
In vast unknown events of yesteryear?
Was it the same or different atmosphere?
If a rock could talk.
If I touch it, will vibrations reveal
The patient revelations this rock can feel?
Or, just appreciate its raw appeal?
If a rock could talk.
I'll pick a shiny stone to toss in stream,
But kiss it first, then add a wish to dream.
When settled to the bottom, it will gleam.
If a rock could talk.
A simple act that joins the site to me,
Communion of spirituality,
In oneness with the spot's geology.
If a rock could talk.
These things I contemplate while on my walk,
If a rock could talk.
| Author Notes |
Well, I do!
This poem is simple aaaB Quatrains with 10/5 Meter, where the first three lines are mono-rhymed followed by a repeated refrain. The three lines are in pentameter (10 syllables). The refrain has 5 syllables. This photograph was taken by the author at the Ordway Japanese Garden located at Como Park. |
By Treischel
Twixt the caverns of the mind
And the edges of the quill,
Lurks the matters that are dearest
To my soul.
As I seek to set them free,
I oft am fraught with indecision.
Such hesitancy,
Alas,
Is a defect.
For these are times
My Muse is mute.
Such trying times,
I must refute.
Ah!
But to see the beauty of a flower!
Or,
Partake of some significant event.
Perchance,
To touch the face of love.
For these I pray!
For then,
With powerful perception
My pen will race upon the page.
Unfettered thought shall run with joy,
And I will write
It all.
| Author Notes |
Yes I will
Inspired by Gungalo's Poem, Unfinished Utterance. Picture from Microsoft ClipArt |
By Treischel
Sifting Sand
(A Zejel Poem with Closing envoi))
On rocky hillside where I stand,
I hold the earth right in my hand,
And feel the sense of sifting sand.
Resulting from my hardy climb,
In such enormity of time
That is a complex paradigm,
Far greater than I ever planned
Upon my fingers, flowing through,
I had a thought I never knew -
To scatter eons residue,
I toss the surface of the land.
As I continue here to scour,
Along with every passing hour,
That gives most mystical power,
I know it leaves me feeling grand.
Through these hands, sand particles race.
There's such a joy that I embrace
That you can read it on my face -
The feel of earth at my command.
Sweet Mother Earth flows through my hand
Each cooling strand of shifting sand
On rocky hillside where I stand.
| Author Notes |
I took my grandson, Jeremy, for a walk and let him climb the sandstone cliffs nearby. His look of amazement and joy, caused me to write this poem.
This poem is a Zejel. Another amazing format I learned from Gungalo. ZEJEL: A Spanish form. The first stanza, known as the mudanza, has three lines, rhyming aaa. All other stanzas, as many as you like, have 4 lines, with the rhyme going back to the first stanza. Rhyme Scheme: aaa bbba ccca ddda etc. Colloquial language tends to be used. Meter: 8-syllable lines (not obligatory). For this poem I also added a closing 3 line Envoi with an aaa rhyme scheme that echoes the first three lines. This photograph was taken by the author himself along the Mississippi river banks in St. Paul, Minnesota in July, 2013. |
By Treischel
Heaven and Hell
(Petrarchan Sonnet)
On high thy angels sing songs to their Lord
In pure white garb, radiantly attired.
Bright presence of the King of Kings inspired
To praise Him in His glory, Christ adored,
By they who hath attained their just reward.
In all the heavenly hosts , He be admired,
A model of pure righteousness desired
By souls who want to seek a true accord.
Alas, there are those who cannot relate.
Their stone cold hearts are driven to rebel.
Consuming passion oft seals bitter fate.
They can't control their hungers very well.
And so, they turneth backs on Heaven's gate
To soon become the denizens of hell.
| Author Notes |
Heaven or Hell is the choice we make.
This poem is a Petrarchan Sonnet. A Petrarchan sonnet is fundamentally a dialectical construct which allows the poet to examine the nature and ramifications of two usually contrastive ideas,emotions, states of mind, beliefs, actions, events, images, etc., by juxtaposing the two against each other, and possibly resolving or just revealing the tensions created and operative between the two. This Italian format of the sonnet is divided into two sections by two different groups of rhyming sounds. The first 8 lines is called the octave and rhymes: a b b a a b b a The remaining 6 lines is called the sestet and can have either two or three rhyming sounds, arranged in a variety of ways, such as: c d c d c d The change that occurs at the beginning of L9 in the Italian sonnet is called the Volta, or "turn"; the turn is an essential element of the sonnet form, perhaps the essential element. It is at the Volta that the second idea is introduced. I must give credit here to my fellow Fanstorian, GregoryCody whose poem, When Titans Fall, introduced me to this format and inspired me to write this poem. The artwork is courtesy of Yahoo Images |
By Treischel
Went fishing in a junkyard world
Surrounded by robotic dreams.
Metalic thoughts that twirled and twirled
Got shocked by electronic screams.
The air polluted, toxic dust,
Men blinded by the demon's wish,
Releasing hatred, fear, and lust.
In acid rain swim iron fish.
| Author Notes |
It burns
Photograph is the author's work. |
By Treischel
Well?
(A Couplet Query)
At what point does poetical despair
Turn from depression into, "I don't care?"
| Author Notes |
Its been a year.
I think "I don't care" would be better |
By Treischel
Self-Inflicted Pain
(ABAB Quatrain)
Van Gogh cut off his ear.
I now understand why.
The message is perfectly clear,
Maybe I should poke out my eye.
| Author Notes |
I'm beginning to understand that when you encounter pain you can't deal with, such as in the soul and mind, you inflict some that you can deal with, and you understand the source better.
Picture of Van Gogh from Yahoo Images. |
By Treischel
Spirit of Adventure
(Triplets in 7-4-4 Meter)
Where e'er these still waters flow
I want to go
For this I know
Flowing to another place
In languid pace
No need to race
Oh, what mirrored sights to see!
Each shore-side tree,
Water lily
I'll follow each drifting cloud
Past fields unplowed
And sing aloud
| Author Notes |
What drives a wandering soul?
Photograph by the author |
By Treischel
Reflections
(A Free Style Poem)
As the year draws to a close
there are thoughts that do impose
a reflection
a collection of
the reactions that oft' arose
In the corners of my mind
I'll frequently find
in a nook
where I'd look
are the secret pleasures that I took
in full measure
little pleasures
as my memories unwind
In there too
are a few
of the failures that I knew
in the trash
bold and brash
after each legendary crash
buried there
alone
like a dog's forgotten bone
no more to bemoan
or thrash
To all that foregone brew
I bid
Adieu
and start anew
| Author Notes |
Just some random thoughts.
Lack of punctuation intentional. This was the first picture I ever took with the most expensive camera I've bought to that point. It got me into digital photography. The bird is a Great White Egret. |
By Treischel
Their Spirits Dance
(A Pantoum Sonnet)
Their spirits dance on water's waves,
Delighting in refreshing spray,
As droplets pelt these prancing braves,
On sacred pond bronzed warriors play.
Delighting in refreshing spray,
They flop atop the lily pads.
On sacred pond bronzed warriors play,
These ghosts of long past native lads.
They flop atop the lily pads,
Reminders of what once had been.
These ghosts of long past native lads,
Someday their hopes may rise again.
As droplets pelt these prancing braves,
Their spirits dance on water's waves.
| Author Notes |
This fountain pond is in a park in Downtown Bemidji, Minnesota. Not sure what the city fathers had in mind when they had this commissioned, but it spoke to me of spirits of Native Americans who once called this spot home. Possibly a sacred pool along the shores of Lake Bemidji, close to the headwaters of the Mississippi. Bemidji is the first lake formed by the Mississippi as it heads south from Itaska. Relations between the early settlers and the Indian population were friendly. Prior to the 1880's a band of about fifty Leech Lake Indians (a branch of the Ojibwa) lived along the south shore of a lake with their elder, Shaynowishkung. They called that lake Bemidjigumaug, meaning 'river or route flowing crosswise' because the current of the Mississippi flows crosswise across the lake. Shaynowishkung's daughter, Bahgahmaushequay, married Merian Carson, thereby cementing the relationship between the original inhabitants and the white newcomers. The white pioneers, honored Shaynowishkung for his staunch friendship. Although he was not a tribal chief, Shaynowishkung was respectfully called 'Chief Bemidji' by those he provided food and shelter for while they were building their homestead cabins. Eventually, all their lands were overtaken by the settlers and the Indians were removed to reservations at Red Lake and Leach Lake. This park spoke to me as an echo of those gracious Indians who ended up being betrayed.
This poem is a Pantoum Sonnet. Once again I was introduced to this form by Gungalo in her poem, Tomorrow's Dawn. A Pantoum Sonnet combines the characteristics of the two formats. A Pantoum is a repeating poem whose second and fourth lines become the first and third lines of the next stanza. The Sonnet is a 14 line poem with 12 lines of abab rhyming and two closing rhymed lines. It can be formed in the contemporary manner of three Quatrains with closing couplet, of the traditional way of 14 lines together (as done here). In either case, the rhyme scheme for this Pantoum Sonnet is: A1/B1/A2/B2/ B1/C1/B2/C2/ C1/D1/C2/D2/ A2/A1 Gungalo chose to use the traditional iambic pentameter for her tempo. I chose the less conventional, but equally acceptable, iambic tetrameter for mine. This photograph was taken by the author himself. |
By Treischel
To Spare the Rod
(A New Form)
I really like to be amused,
And hate it if I get abused,
When life's conditions have me bruised
Along the ardent pathways used.
Used to be such a simple man,
Bruised before my life's tale began.
Abused because it was God's plan.
Amused there's now a spanking ban.
Ban is now the context of law.
Plan replaced any perceived flaw,
Began enlightened treatment thaw,
Man from violence must withdraw.
Withdraw Old Testament's crude thought.
Thaw it to the message Christ brought.
Flaw of strictness is overwrought.
Law correction fervently sought.
Now children stand aloft.
But are we better off?
| Author Notes |
My parents believed in the Old Testament version of discipline, as stated in "Spare the Rod, Spoil the Child", as did most parents in the 1950's, when I grew up. Today those methods are called abuse, but we also have much more juvenile crime, disrespect for authority, and automatic weapons in children's hands blowing away classmates.
Proverbs 13:23-24 Those who spare the rod of discipline hate their children. Those who love their children care enough to discipline them. Proverbs 23: 13-14 Don't fail to discipline your children. They wont die if you spank them. Physical discipline may well save them from death. Now we have turned away from this teaching, and changed the laws. This poem is a new form created by Gungalo. It has a very complex structure. See her poem, Toss the Coins. Here are her instructions: Start with a beginning, 8-syllable quatrain that is monorhymed. The end rhymes from the first verse are the beginning words for the next verse, in reverse order, which will then have new end rhymes. These end rhymes similarly follow to be the first words of the next verse, and so on until the end. You may write as many verses as you would like, four being the minimum, making sure to end with mono-rhymes. Center align. I think this new form should have a name. Here are some of my suggestions: Gungalo Twist, Twistolet, Mono-flip, Reflectolet, Twisted Ladder, Helical Harmony. This picture was taken from Yahoo Images. |
By Treischel
Oh mothers and fathers , I pray you, take heed
Of the things that you would do.
As you hotly engage your physical need,
Remember a thing or two.
For your love designs may make another life,
As forces within ensue.
Be aware to avoid embryonic strife,
There's much you might put it through.
The seeds of life planted in a mother's womb
Are precious beyond belief.
Protected from harm, a cherished child will bloom,
Well nurtured in liquid sheaf.
It quickly grows under influence of mom,
Connected in coiled motif.
It's very important to keep feeling calm,
For the child can feel her grief,
And sense her joy, float in pain, know she's annoyed
And relax in her relief.
Whichever - the term is endured or enjoyed,
Determines a saint or thief.
A mother must watch what she puts in her mouth
Be it drugs, or smokes, or food.
'Cause whatever that baby's mother ingests
It impacts her infant's mood.
If you pay attention to a mother's health,
Good results will be accrued.
A fine new addition to the commonwealth
When child is finally viewed.
Oh mothers and fathers , I pray you, take heed
Of the things that you would do.
As you hotly engage your physical need,
Remember a thing or two.
| Author Notes |
Some thoughts about pregnancy.
The picture is courtesy of Bing Images |
By Treischel
Pens and pencils in my pocket,
My merry Muse upon the shelf.
Have the keys that could unlock it,
The treasures locked within myself.
My merry Muse upon the shelf,
Waiting to pass outside to play.
The treasures locked within myself,
They're set to see the light of day.
Waiting to pass outside to play,
Just a little inspiration,
They're set to see the light of day,
With tools of communication.
Just a little inspiration,
Have the keys that could unlock it.
With tools of communication,
Pens and pencils in my pocket.
| Author Notes |
Tools of communication. Time honored.
This picture is courtesy of Yahoo Images. |
By Treischel
The Ride
(An Eleven 77 Poem)
Sometimes you may
feel like going for
a ride
To break away
from an emptiness
inside
From the bottom
there's a sudden urge
to climb
And find the heights
that evade you most
the time
With click and clack
you get pulled up to
the top
Then take a breath
as so swiftly comes
the drop
It's way too quick
when life takes you for
a ride
| Author Notes |
Life is short. The climb is steep. The ups and downs can be precipitous. The highs are often short.
This poem is an Eleven77. An Eleven77 is a poem form created by an Australian Fanstorian poet: GarthL It consists of seven stanzas each with a specific syllable count of 4, 5, 2. Last word of each two (2) successive stanzas to rhyme. Finally, the last word of the last stanza to rhyme with, or repeat, the last word of the first stanza. Each stanza thereby has 11 syllables across 7 stanzas equaling to 77 syllables in total, hence an Eleven77. This picture was taken by the author at The Mall of America in Bloomington, Minnesota, in July 2012 |
By Treischel
Resolutions
(A Sonnet)
'Tis breaking dawn of coming year.
Wouldst strive to make the future clear,
Consulting through a crystal ball,
Or Gypsy fortune telling all.
Perchance magical solutions
Dost aid setting resolutions.
Prithee, that faire intentions caught,
Insures these plans shant go for naught.
Alas, past history has cast
A shadow 'pon my will to last.
Hark, take tidings with great sorrow.
All's been broken by the morrow.
Still, like unto a ruined romance,
I'll vie to take another chance.
| Author Notes |
Happy New Year to All. May all our resolutions be kept!
This poem is a Sonnet that has two types of meter within. All lines are written in Tetrameter (4 foot or 8 syllable counts). Most lines are Iambic, having accent on the second syllable (da Dum, da Dum, the line starts soft and ends with a hard accent). But four lines are Trochaic, having the accent on the first syllable (DA dum, Da dum, each line starting with a hard accent and ending soft). The Trochaic lines are: Perchance magical solutions Dost aid setting resolutions. Hark, take tidings with great sorrow. All's been broken by the morrow. The picture is from Yahoo Images. |
By Treischel
Trodden shadows in the snow
Fleeting things that come and go
Tiny whispers on the breeze
Autumn leaves upon the trees
These footprints will melt away
Shadows fade at end of day
Promises might not be kept
Fallen leaves get raked and swept
Often we must rearrange
Things once touched by winds of change
No time for morbid sorrow
Look forward to tomorrow
| Author Notes |
May your tomorrows by brighter.
3 Quatrains in aabb rhyme scheme. Syllable count: 7 Author's photograph. |
By Treischel
The Universe
(ABAB Ryhmed Poem)
When I look upon stars
Whether planets, like Mars,
Or the billions of suns,
As the Universe runs,
I am filled with awe.
The conclusion I draw:
Too vast to comprehend.
I begin in the end
Feeling how really small
We are amidst it all.
| Author Notes |
It just so large!
ABAB rhymed in 10 lines, Syllable count 6. The picture is from Yahoo Images. |
By Treischel
Communication from Afar
(An Octogram)
When on a journey you may go,
Will you go far?
The trip you take will set the flow
In plane, or car,
Or maybe, it is in your mind.
Remember those you left behind
May often wonder where you are.
Will you go far?
A courtesy that you may show:
To be a star,
Communications you bestow,
When from afar,
Gives peace-of-mind to those who care.
From everywhere the thoughts you share
Keeps friends within relief's radar.
Will you go far?
| Author Notes |
It's nice to get communication from a friend.
This poem is dedicated to our FanStory intrepid traveler, Joan E, who posts her wonderful travelogue poetry for us, and all other FanStorians who take us with them on journeys with our minds. This poem is an Octogram. The Octogram is a style of poetry invented by Fanstorian Sally Yocom (S.Yocom). It consists of two stanzas of eight lines each, with a very specific syllable count and rhyme scheme. Syllable count is: 84848884, repeat on second stanza. Rhyme scheme: aBabccbB ababddbB, where B repeats same text repeated. No more than 16 lines The picture is from Yahoo Images |
By Treischel
Some faith can be - a fickle foundation,
Like sinking structures on sifting sand,
A blind belief of short derivation,
Once tested, discarded first, out-of-hand.
What is mine?
Some faith can be - a stout suit of armor
That's put on tightly with wisdom and care,
Brightly burnished and shined by the Savior,
Against which no demon would have a prayer.
What is mine?
All have made choices, which faith to follow.
There are implications full of God's wrath.
Some beliefs are firm, and some are hollow.
But one thing is certain. We choose the path!
What is mine?
| Author Notes |
Sooner or later you must choose.
Author's photo. |
By Treischel
Time's Pace
(A Rondeau Redouble)
Does time really get faster as we age?
As we grow old it certainly seems so.
There isn't a precise measurement gage,
But seriously, I'd still like to know.
Kids dream of the changes they'll undergo.
Things feel like forever when you're teenage;
Just can't wait to grow, all things way too slow.
Does time really get faster as we age?
It goes so quickly as you turn each page.
Look back at what wasn't so long ago,
It seems you really flew through every stage.
As we grow old it certainly seems so.
Yesterday went at an amazing tempo,
Years flying by in a rapid rampage.
The tale that's marked by my wrinkled face show
There isn't a precise measurement gage.
The premise of time I've yet to assuage.
The pertinent pace of its current's flow
Must mock the very wisdom of a sage.
But seriously, I'd still like to know.
Does time really get faster?
| Author Notes |
Or is it that we just have so many more memories stored that it seems faster?
This poem is a Rondeau Redouble. A Rondeau Redouble is a poem with a very complex fixed format. It is written on two rhymes (the a and b rhymes), but in five stanzas of four lines each and one of five lines that repeats a portion of the first line of the poem. Each of the first four lines (which due to the a and b rhymes will be identified in the following stanzas as A1, B1, A2 and B2) get individually repeated in turn once in each of the following stanzas by becoming successively the respective fourth lines of stanzas 2, 3, 4, and 5; and the first part of the first line is repeated as a short fifth line to conclude the fifthth stanza. The stanzas each carry an abab rhyme scheme. So with the repeat lines shown in numbered capitals, this can be represented as - A1,B1,A2,B2 - b,a,b,A1 - a,b,a,B1 - b,a,b,A2 - a,b,a,(A1). This poem can have any meter. This on e is in pentameter. This clock is one I have in my home's basement. Seems appropriate for retirement. |
By Treischel
Just Read
(A 12-line Exhortation)
Just read!
The world's revealed within each page,
released to those of any age.
A way to let the mind engage
its learning need
that will succeed
to teach things never known before.
The books will leave you seeking more.
Within the magic corridor
of open tomes
excitement roams.
Just read!
| Author Notes |
This is a sculpture that I came across at an upscale apartment complex in Woodbury, Minnesota. Woodbury is a suburb of St. Paul, Mn.
This poem is a 12-Line Exhortation. A 12 Line Exhortation is a format this author created. I researched poetry types with 12 Lines to see what they are called. I found a group of poems called 12 Lines. But they are basically unstructured. I wanted some specific structure. I wanted a poem with 3 consecutive lines of rhyme, that played off 8/4/2 syllable counts and was positive in spirit. So I created this format and called it 12 Line Exhortation. Here are the rules. A 12 Line Exhortation is a poem with 12 lines, starting and ending with a 2 syllable line that caries an exhortation, like; Get up!, Move on! Go jump! The whole syllable structure is; 2/8/8/8/4/4/8/8/8/4/4/2. There is also a fixed rhyme scheme of: AbbbaacccddA, where the capital letters are repeated lines. This photograph was taken by the author himself. |
By Treischel
Decadent Splendor
(A Sedoka Poem)
Decadent splendor
as Las Vegas draws you in
the shows, the art, the glamour
But beneath it all
undercurrents of money
broken dreams and fortunes lost
| Author Notes |
Incredible architecture, advertising, fountains, pools,sculptures, it's all there to marvel at, inside and out. It's all a lure.
This poem is a Sedoka. The Sedoka format is one of the Americanized forms that plays off the Japanese poetic models based on 5 and 7 syllable counts, but without all the esoteric requirements found in the Japanese model. A Sedoka poem has two stanzas of 5-7-7 unrhymed lines dealing with same subject, but from a different aspect in each stanza. This format is intended to be descriptive, creating a complete picture. The photograph was taken by the author while in Vegas. |
By Treischel
I Really Wonder
(A 5-7-5-7-7 Poem with Refrain)
I wonder
You ever notice
how snow melts in Spring
'round bases of trees?
They're the first to catch the heat
with their limbs raised to the sky.
I wonder
Is it something else
that causes this reaction
coming from the earth?
Heated life force of the tree,
ready to burst forth with life?
I wonder
| Author Notes |
I was sitting having coffee and noticed this out my window. Then I drove around and found this to be the case everywhere.
The stanzas are written in a Tanka-like 5-7-5-7-7 format. The photograph was taken by the author. |
By Treischel
Fleeting Moments
(A Septolet)
Solid structures
of time
are held high
As we
fixate
on man's
fleeting moments
| Author Notes |
Time was invented by mankind. It structures our days. We build towers to see what time it is, and even wear it on our arms. It helps us to stay focused. We keep schedules. Yet time is so fleeting.
This poem is a Septolet. The Septolet is a poetic format that keys off of word count rather than syllable count. It has fourteen words. It is broken between two stanzas that make up the fourteen words. Each stanza can have seven words each, but that is not a firm requirement. Both stanzas deal with the same thought and create a picture. It may be rhymed or unrhymed. There are seven total lines also. So there are two sets of seven words spread across seven lines of poetry. That explains the name, Septolet, meaning - small sevens. This photograph was taken by the author in a small mall located in Mendota Heights, Minnesota. |
By Treischel
What do you do,
When you don't have a clue?
The problem's too big?
No one gives a fig?
| Author Notes |
Frazzled?
This picture is from Yahoo Images |
By Treischel
Everywhere ghosts of past progress
stand mute to former noblesse.
Once shining business, now dispossess
their gilded dreams,
or so it seems.
Their walls, once pillars of commerce,
bear fates that are now quite converse,
as misfortune turned for the worse.
Solid visions - gone up in smoke,
now just a ruin, windows all broke,
festooned with graffiti's art stroke.
Once a fine place,
Now empty space.
Its model foundations were strong.
The leaders who brought it along,
now wonder, "Where did it go wrong?"
| Author Notes |
This abandoned building was once the lower train depot for downtown St. Paul, Minnesota. Once a bustling business in the hayday of the train industry, it now stands empty, a home for pigeons and vagabonds. Examples like this can be found in many cities across the USA.
This poem is a Figure Eight poem. The Figure Eight format was created by this author. Several reviewers suggested that it take a name. Wackydo, a fellow Fanstorian, suggested this name because the wide upper and lower portion with a tighter center suggests the form of an 8. Here is the structure. Each stanza has a syllable count of: 8-8-8-4-4-8-8-8 The rhyme scheme is: aaabbccc There can be any number of stanzas. There is no requirement for a specific meter, just an adherence to the syllable count. This photograph was taken by the author himself. |
By Treischel
Watch the children playing
on local modern field.
Good conditions keep them staying,
engagement has revealed.
Investment in our youth
keeps kids healthy and good.
It is a universal truth
oft times misunderstood.
Mischief from idle minds
is often kept at bay
when their pent-up energy finds
a lovely place to play.
So, watching them with pride,
on fields my taxes made,
and the community supplied,
is worth the money paid.
With action in the sun
at our new baseball park,
the team-based innings played
keeps going until dark.
| Author Notes |
Providing community centers, playgrounds, and ball parks is important to the future of our youth. The expense of the investment is paid back in their character development. This park is at Diamond Lake in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
A simple set of Quatrains with a 6-6-8-6 tempo and an abab rhyme scheme. The picture was photographed by the author himself. |
By Treischel
Wonderful words in pure rhythm and rhyme,
that dance with the muse in motion sublime.
Just like when musical cords intersperse,
so too does the page of poetry verse.
Both forms make a place for souls to immerse.
Poets paint portraits with wonderful words
of beauty, as in the flowers and birds,
or the mountains, oceans, gardens, or trees,
about rainstorms, or a heavenly breeze.
Either it's written with tension, or ease.
The poem is a means for poets to share
the essence of things about which they care.
Often releasing quite strong emotions,
as others convey fanciful notions,
even inspire religious devotions.
Minding my muse seems so natural to me.
There's never a day without poetry.
Its absence would become awfully absurd.
We need places where emotions are stirred,
Poetry brings forth wonders of the word.
| Author Notes |
My perspective
Picture from Yahoo Images |
By Treischel
Oh, Robin Williams, Rest in Peace
From inner turmoil, no surcease
Such deep depression, suicide
Has brought you to the darker side
We won't forget your Mork from Ork
Or all your brilliant other work
There's never been a sharper mind
To craft a quip, act unconfined
We'll miss your wit, we'll miss your style
It's hard for us to reconcile
Your sudden end, our funny friend
Whose spirit now from Earth ascends
When you greet God, I hope you do,
He'll laugh with you -- Nanoo Nanoo!
| Author Notes |
Farewell our Friend
Picture from Yahoo Images |
By Treischel
Life has many twists and turns
And any survivor learns
To read the signs on the way
To where some directions sway
Past impeding obstacles
With people or vehicles
Lest they may be led astray.
| Author Notes |
I liked the look of this nicely decorated center road divider with its lovely flowers and the sign guiding trafic around it. It is the inspiration for this poem.
This poem is a 7X7 Poem. A 7x7 poem consists of 7 lines of 7 syllables per line. thus, 7x7.Rhyming is optional. It was created by David Shrewsbury. I was introduced to it by Capricorn30. For this poem, I chose to rhyme. The rhyme scheme is: aabbccb. The photograph was taken by the author himself. |
By Treischel
To soar above
the silver clouded sky
on wings
Our ancestors
only imagined
such things
'Til recently
could only dream
of flight
While watching stars
as they twinkled in
the night
Or seeing birds
migrating somewhere
unknown
Our minds went where
all the gentle winds
Have blown
Today we soar
In the clouds for joy
It brings
| Author Notes |
It never ceases to amaze me how these man-made objects of metal can fly. Such a recent event when measured against the course of history.
This poem is an Eleven77 which is a poem form created by an Australian Fanstorian poet: GarthL It consists of seven stanzas each with a specific syllable count of 4, 5, 2. Last word of two (2) successive stanzas to rhyme. Finally, the last word of the each stanza to rhyme with the last word of the other stanzas. Each stanza thereby has 11 syllables across 7 stanzas equaling to 77 syllables in total, hence an Eleven77. This photograph was taken by the author himself. |
By Treischel
The great outdoors
draws enthusiastic engagement
through recreation with
laid-back exertion
| Author Notes |
These new bicycles amaze me.
This poem is a Naani. A Naani is a poem that has four lines with 20 - 25 syllables. Rhyme optional. This one has 24 syllables: 4-9-6-5 Picture is the authors own. |
By Treischel
Uplifted
Always upward
Some follow
Others drifted
I shall climb
Always onward
Each advance in their own time
| Author Notes |
This statue is located in an upscale condominium complex in Woodbury, Minnesota. The girl climbing with her eyes to the sky was inspirational. The two dogs, one following right behind, the other hesitant, spoke to me of their personalities and temperament. I tried to capture that here.
The Whitney poem format was created by Betty Ann Whitney. This is a seven-line versed poem based on Japanese patterns with a fixed syllable format that contains 3, 4, 3, 4, 3, 4, 7 syllables respectively. No rhyme scheme is required, but may be incorporated if desired. This photograph was taken by the author himself |
By Treischel
What
Hope floats
on the throes of Life
when clinging tenaciously
to the edge of overhanging cliffs?
As fingers strain to grip
to points of dubious strength
that seem to crumble
and slip from saving clutch,
Is freedom out of reach?
Is the spark to be extinguished?
or
Will there be another chance?
Another day to suffer or savor?
There, dangling by a fingernail,
what holds the survival key
but the might of Faith,
a sustaining love,
a firm core of
Inner-strength
| Author Notes |
When suffering from chronic illness or pain, those involved find ways to endure and carry on.
This picture is from Yahoo Images. |
By Treischel
There is no better way to spend a day.
I love to spend it here upon a lake,
While tucked away in fav'rite private bay,
With all its many pleasures to partake.
I love to spend it here upon a lake.
I'm ready when the weather fin'ly clears,
With all its many pleasures to partake,
Where Nature's sound is music to my ears.
I'm ready when the weather fin'ly clears,
When I might choose to take a quiet walk,
Where Nature's sound is music to my ears,
And I might spot an Eagle or a Hawk.
There is no better way to spend a day.
While tucked away in fav'rite private bay.
| Author Notes |
Whether fishing, or stolling, boating, swiming, or just sitting by the lake, there are not many more delightful ways to spend a day.
This poem is a Pantoum Sonnet combining the formats of the Pantoum and the Sonnet. I missed the contest because it filled before I could submit mine, needing to review a bit to earn the money to enter. Oh well, I'll post it here anyway. This photograph was taken by the author himself. |
By Treischel
'Tis but a time of tribulation
A world where a cast of Titans clash
Where truths teeter on veneration
Of deities misconstrued as brash.
True thoughts of tolerance turns to hate,
As the nature of conflict affords.
Makes Christians and Muslims pursue fate
That was unintended by their Lords.
How could such travesty come about
From doctrine with a message of love?
The translation that fanatics tout
Wasn't given by those up above.
Insanity rules these holy wars,
Whether Crusade or Jihad or not.
Eons of hate haven't settled scores.
It must be Satan's hideous plot.
For centuries too much blood was shed,
And yet neither side has prevailed.
Too many innocent souls are dead,
With sacred sites too often assailed.
Why not bring peace to the Holy Land?
Understanding to the Middle East?
Fully extend a brotherly hand.
Ensure that the conflict has ceased.
| Author Notes |
Why must we be this way?
This poem is a series of Quatrains with an abab rhyme scheme and a meter of 9 counts. The Picture is from Yahoo Images |
By Treischel
Teach kids all things that you so love.
Shared passions gained will rise above
the insecurities there are
restricting them from going far,
by just exposing them to all the joy it brings.
This feeling will accrue when you teach kids all things.
They'll walk by you with smiling face,
Companionship you'll both embrace.
With pointers they can understand,
you let them practice their command
of complex processes you show them how to do.
For then, in eager confidence they'll walk by you.
| Author Notes |
I love to take photographic pictures. Here my grandson has begun to share my passion. I've lent him one of my cameras.
This poem is a Wrapped Refrain. A wrapped Refrain, created by Jan Turner, consists of 2 or more stanzas of six lines each, with a wrapped refrain. Meter: 8,8,8,8,12,12 Rhyme scheme: aabbcc In each stanza the first 4 syllables (or 4 single syllable words)in the first line of the stanza must be repeated as the last 4 syllables in the last line. This creates the wrap effect, for which the format is named - Wrapped Refrain. Author's photograph |
By Treischel
How oft' my heart gets broken
Disappointment creeping in
These scars are left as token
Of your patience wearing thin
Your patience wearing thin
You'd think by now I'd harden
Like a scab upon a sore
But still, I beg your pardon
And keep coming back for more
Coming back for more
My nature bleeds forgiveness
As I feel for all mankind
There's much unfinished business
That keeps troubling my mind
Keeps troubling my mind
I pray that I might change you
And that things won't stay the same
Often feel the things we go through
That it's somehow me to blame
Somehow me to blame
I keep on turning faces
As I'm slapped upon my cheek
Bruised and beaten spaces
The rewards of being meek
Of being meek
My only means of coping
And being a poor bettor
Is still to keep on hoping
Tomorrow will be better
Tomorrow will be better
| Author Notes |
This is just a poem unrelated to anything currently going on in my life.
So often the victim of abuse believes that they are to blame. Somehow it is their inadequacy that caused the incident. Then their desire to be loved, forgiven, and changed kicks in to gear. I tried to capture that here. This poem is a Quintain. A quintain is a poem of 5 lines. What make this an Echo is the fifth line repeating all or part of the fourth line. This gives is a dramatic impact. The rhyme scheme is: ababb. The meter here is to a count of 7. This picture is from Yahoo images. |
By Treischel
Feel the cool autumn weather.
Go outside together.
See the color scenes.
And, by all means,
Walk your dog!
Such a colorful display,
There every single way.
Set some smart routines.
And, by all means,
Walk your dog!
Autumn season is divine,
All senses feeling fine,
Don sweater and jeans.
And, by all means,
Walk your dog!
| Author Notes |
I was walking to see the autumn colors along the river road in St. Paul, Minnesota, when I spotted this couple out walking their dog. The dog looks exactly like my dog, Tiva, a Husky/Shephard mix, who died about 4 years ago. I miss that dog and remember all the walks we had over the 17 years we had with her.
I wrote this poem in an unuaual Quintain format. The rhyme scheme is: aabbc. The meter is: 7-6-5-4-3 I took this photograph on October 17, 2014 with my Canon 50X zoom camera from across the street along the East River Road. |
By Treischel
If I were a King, I'd sit my throne
And wait for my Queen, to come alone.
We'd rule all the land, like we planned,
And be Just to everyone --
'Twould be grand.
We'd sit on display, and issue rules.
Our court would be gay, there'd be no fools.
We'd listen to all. Best of all,
There'd be music at the Ball --
Think of that.
We'd keep taxes low, for Heaven's sake.
The better to grow, and not forsake
our people in need. It's agreed.
There'll be food for mouths to feed --
Every day.
Our kingdom will shine, throughout the land.
Example for all. They'll know our brand;
A large buckhorn stag, on our flag,
passersby will go home and brag --
That's a fact.
| Author Notes |
I was just playing around with rhythmic tempo. I wrote this to match the rhythm of the Blue Danube Waltz. You know:
da da da da Dum, da Dum da Dum da da da da Dum, da Dum da Dum da da Dum, da da Dum da da Dum da Dum da- da da da Rhyme scheme: aabbc Syllable count: 9-9-8-7-3 Gay meaning happy, not homosexual. |
By Treischel
We joined hands and said "I do". With that we joined our children too. A blended family instantly. Carrying their own concerns and history. The parents are caught in a tug-of-war between children not their own, and grandparents who don't quite understand. A Never-never Land known to those called step-moms or step-dads, often preceded by the connotation "the evil.." The first issue comes with discipline.
| Author Notes |
A Step Parent lives in a BETWEEN world that not only involves the kids, but the grandparents too. They need to gain love and acceptance on both sides to work out well. Even other siblings may not understand. It is a great day when it finally works out, if ever.
This poem is a Haibun. A Haibun is a literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and Haiku. Generally, a Haibun consists of one or more paragraphs of prose written in a concise, imagistic Haikai style, and one or more Haiku. A Haibun may record a scene, or a special moment, in a highly descriptive and objective manner or may occupy a wholly fictional or dream-like space. The accompanying Haiku may have a direct or subtle relationship with the prose and encompass or hint at the gist of what is recorded in the prose sections. The most common Haiku format is 5-7-5 syllables spread over 3 lines. The picture is from Yahoo images. |
By Treischel
The water in the desert
Is a real Dam miracle.
Colorado stream diverts
to Las Vegas spectacle.
Technology has moved this
environmental treasure,
creating an oasis,
a place of gambling pleasure.
For better or for worse.
| Author Notes |
Hoover Dam provides the water to Las Vegas as well as all its electricity. It is an engineering marvel, but I wonder, at what cost.
This is just simple abab rhymed quatrains on a meter of 7 counts. This photograph was taken by the Author himself during a trip to Las Vegas in March, 2013. |
By Treischel
The Eye of God is looking down,
Sometimes with joy, most times with pain.
Our sins toward Him may make it frown.
Unfaithful souls, in sin we drown,
Without a thought what wrath we gain.
The Eye of God is looking down.
An evil cloaked gossamer gown
Can't fool His Eye, the taints remain.
Our sins toward Him may make it frown.
For Satan is a lying clown
Who bends the truth of his disdain.
The Eye of God is looking down.
In heaven see God's golden crown.
His Eye sees what our hearts contain.
Our sins toward Him may make it frown.
Beware delights demons explain.
They deal confusion to our brain.
The Eye of God is looking down.
Our sins toward Him may make it frown.
Ă??Ă?Â
| Author Notes |
A couple of nights ago I captured a sunset. Within it was this image. It made me think of an angry eye in the sky and became the inspiration for this poem. I also must thank fellow FanStorian, tfawcus. Tony reminded me of this lovely format that I hadn't written in a while.
This poem is a Villanelle. A villanelle is a nineteen-line poetic form consisting of five tercets followed by a quatrain. There are two refrains (A1 and A2) and two repeating rhymes (a and b), with the first and third line of the first tercet repeated alternately until the last stanza, which includes both repeated lines. The villanelle is an example of a fixed verse form. It is structured by two repeating rhymes and two refrains: the first line of the first stanza serves as the last line of the second and fourth stanzas, and the third line of the first stanza serves as the last line of the third and fifth stanzas. The rhyme-and-refrain pattern of the villanelle can be schematized as: (A1)b(A2) ab(A1) ab(A2) ab(A1) ab(A2) ab(A1)(A2) where letters ("a" and "b") indicate the two rhyme sounds, upper case indicates a repeated refrain ("A"), and superscript numerals (1 and 2) indicate Refrain A1 and Refrain A2. There is no specific meter required for a Villanelle, but for this poem I chose iambic tetrameter. This photograph was taken at dusk by the author on Saturday, April 4, 2015. Interestingly, that is the day after Good Friday, and a day before Easter Sunday. |
By Treischel
Our weary nation is so sick of war
In foreign places dubious of help
For people unattuned to ways of peace,
Ungrateful for our aid and sacrifice.
Political reactions countermand
The need to stay the course, to meet the wants
Of leaders with the backbone to succeed.
Instead they gut the budgets and withdraw.
Oh no! That's not the way it's meant to be!
Our legacy of freedom borne in blood
Must not be squandered, scattered to the wind,
Ignoring sacrifices of our dead.
The world remains a very dang'rous place,
And we should not relinquish diligence.
| Author Notes |
The task is costly, arduous, and often unfullfilling. But the world is a dangerous place, and we must be able to meet the threats. World threats become our threats. We must not put our heads in the sand.
This poem is a Blank Verse Sonnet for the contest. The picture is taken fron Yahoo Images |
By Treischel
| Author Notes |
Poem for the Contest
Minimal punctuation. I believe that abortioin is sanctioned murder, but I hope that does not disuade reviewers from an honest appraisal, due to my opinion. This is a Tableau Poem. Here are the contest rules. The Tableau consists of one or more verses, each having six lines. Each line should have five syllables. There is no set rhyme scheme, although rhyme may be present. The title should contain the word "tableau". Since the dictionary states that the word "tableau" means striking or dramatic picture or representation, the ideal poem should reflect this. A picture should come to mind as the poem is read. No artwork, as your words will paint the picture. This form was created by Emily Romano in 2008. |
By Treischel
You wear your heart out on your sleeve
For those who grieve
And those in need.
In hopes to impact at least one,
Perhaps some more 'fore day is done.
I wish you then Godspeed!
Small gift impacts one life, indeed.
Maybe more as days proceed.
For those who grieve,
And those who need,
May blossom from your deed.
| Author Notes |
I was inspired to write this poem after reviewing a poem by Tab_thats me's, Saving the World. Teresa's poem was very touching.
No particular format. The variable meter is: 8/4/4 /8/8 - 6 - 8/8/4/4/6 The rhyme scheme was: aabcc - b - bbabb This picture is from Yahoo Images |
By Treischel
Speeding, Splashing, Dashing,
The river holds the vessel high
To pummel, splash, and spray,
Defying current,
Defying waves,
Creating controlled chaos.
Yet, it speeds upstream with power
All men seek out exciting thrills.
Fishermen extend limits with poles and boats.
There is no need to hurry.
The river shall remain.
Fish stay within their habitats.
Perhaps, it's mere excitement
That drives men to extremes.
Do they need to violate the silence
with their motors, that grind and scream,
That fill the wilderness with noise?
Do I behave as callous as they,
Creating chaos with my own
Wave and wake?
Do my ripples pummel quiet shores,
While I go blithely by?
Should I heed examples set
By careless lack of sensitivity,
To see the seed that's grown in me?
Or, shall I walk -- run -- drive -- or fly
In continued ignorance
Of my own indiscretions?
These things
I
Ponder.
| Author Notes |
Speed boats on the river can often be annoying. Their noise disturbs the peace, even when in a larger boat. In a small craft, like a canoe, the waves created by their wake can be dangerous. These men are annoying, but before I cast a stone, make sure that my own house is in order. Do I behave like them in any way? This is a shot that I took while on a recent Mississippi river cruise.
This poem is styled after what I think is a Chinese format that I was introduced to by Alan K Pease, a fellow FanStorian, in his poem: Snow Leopard. He stated that it emulated the style of the famous Chinese Poet, Tuo Ssu. I searched the internet and couldn't find any instruction in the style that was helpful, so I analysed Alan's poem and tried here to emulate his. Here is what I came up with. It is a free verse poem. Start with a 7 line stanza beginning with three gerunds (words ending in "ing") that describe the image you have in mind. Then, in the remaining lines describe what, why, how,how, how, with a closing "but". Now write 2 lines, each that relate to the image. Follow that with 5 lines, where 3 oppose the image and 2 strive to explain the cause. Then write 3 lines that embelish the theme with a question. Follow with 5 lines that relate to this image by questioning yourself, At least 2 questions. After that, write 6 lines that connect the whole to yourself, which inquires what to do and ponders the resolution, in questions. I chose to add a closing comment as an envoi. I hope I got it. I'll ask Alan how I did. This is my attempt at it. Hope you like it. The photograph was taken by the author himself on October 16, 2015. |
By Treischel
sanctioned graffiti
with transient colored chalk
short the marks we leave
| Author Notes |
Our lives are just a blink in time.
I missed the Philosophical Senryu Contest, but here it is any way. On my recent river cruise, when we pulled into the Lock and Dam. The crew passed out colored chalk so that we could write something on the wall if we wanted. Of course, it was in the lowered position and will wash away once the water level is raised. The thought inspired this Senryu about the human condition. This poem is a Senryu. The Senryu is a form that calls for some sort of satirical "aha" moment, and is written about humans. A 5-7-5 format is not an absolute necessity, but the poem must be 17 syllables or less and should follow a short/long/short form. It is primarily concerned with human nature. It is often humorous or satiric. A non-traditional Senryu can have less than 5/7/5 syllables. A common variation is 3/5/3. This photograph was taken by the author on October 13, 2015. |
By Treischel
I
stuggle
for an answer
to this question.
Why
does God
allow such
evil
pain
and
strife
to creep into
His faithful
People's life?
It causes
spiritual indigestion
and cuts some
newly baptized
like a knife.
For Satan hates to
see God's plan
succeed.
Attacking
with his vast
demonic skills,
he revels when his action
often kills
the spark of faith
that grows from human need.
It stifles,
misdirecting
our free wills.
So often prayers
just seem
to go unheeded.
Our sufferings
just seem
to stay unknown.
Just when
It seems
God's blessings are most needed,
His promises to us
have surely flown.
We seem
to bear our burdens
all alone.
Is it
our faithfulness
is being tested?
Is it
our tempered edge
is being honed?
Is it
our path
remains a bit congested?
Have we forgotten
all the sins we owned?
Did we forget
the others we have stoned?
<->
I pray my bleary eyes will soon be opened.
I pray I learned how Satan's plans can play
at casting doubts
and making much dismay.
I pray my faith in God remains unbroken.
I pray I walk with Jesus every day.
| Author Notes |
A spiritual query.
This poem is done in Free Style, which is unstructured like Free Verse, but is rhymed in some manner. This is the author's photograph. |
By Treischel
I blinked
and missed the shuttle.
My paddle idle
too long.
Alert again?
More like hypnotized.
Boop! - - - - - - Beep!
Back and forth
Pong
Switching now
to Utube
There,
just
like
play,
Blood soaked screen ! ! !
Severed heads,
death and gore,
RED
Is it a video game?
Beep! - - - - - - Boop!
| Author Notes | Go Figure! |
By Treischel
This world would be much better rift of war.
Yea, even more so, 'twere dispensed with terror.
There'd be no need for armies any more,
Nor, much less, useless death and human error.
For war removes the flower of our age,
Destroying property and ceasing lives,
While perpetrating loss, revenge, and rage;
Proliferating bombs and guns and knives.
Alas, comes tidings, "Bullies everywhere".
'Gainst them arises needs that we defend
Our very way of life. Lest we beware,
That Evil stalks the earth, to seek its end.
So, though we wouldst desire a lasting peace,
I ponder, "Will these conflicts ever cease?"
| Author Notes |
I use two mated lines of feminine iambic pentameter, which ever Shakespeare himself used.
Rift - as in to separate. Age - as in era I capitalized Evil as the proper name of an entity. Desire - 2 syllables Author's photograph. |
By Treischel
Take out the trash.
Cleanse the detritus.
Tidy up a bit!
...Even if it's human.
Eliminate the waste,
better yet,
build a wall!
It worked in China.
I don't like a dirty house.
A clean one is much better!
Let's tidy up a bit,
Take out the trash.
Don't like the one you're in?
Need a bigger one?
Need a better one?
Take someone else's!
It's a proven solution.
Ask Moses.
God gave him the "Promised Land".
Just eliminate the Canaanites.
All of them.
So, if you desire a place to stay,
Just take it!
Regardless of the trash that was there first.
Cleanse the detritus.
Tidy up a bit.
Worked in Hawaii.
Worked in Australia.
Worked for Cortez.
Worked in North America.
Just ask the original occupants.
Hitler had the same solution.
Cleanse the detritus.
Tidy up a bit.
| Author Notes |
Just sayin'
Author's photograph |
By Treischel
I'll see you at the end of the day,
unless
I was ...
... an accountant
at WORK
in the tower
on 9-11.
... in a CAR
on the I35W bridge
when it collapsed.
... or
maybe
I was riding
in a CAR any day,
when a truck in the oncoming lane
crossed over into mine,
and hit me head on.
... or a child in SCHOOL
at Sandyhook,
or Columbine,
when that gunman entered.
... watching a MOVIE at Aurora, CO.
on the day the kid went shooting.
... having a meal in a RESTAURANT
in Paris,
when the terrorists struck.
... attending the annual
company CHRISTMAS PARTY,
not knowing the attitude of my
fellow worker in San Bernadine, CA.
So, kiss me goodbye,
and take nothing for granted.
| Author Notes |
This is a follow-up on my author's notes of my previous poem, where I suggested that the lover might not return. It got me thinking, and this is what came out.
The photo was taken by the author himself in February, 2015. |
By Treischel
Each generation takes, now all seems lost.
Resources dwindle, not to be replaced.
Without regard or ref'rence to the cost,
We burn, we dig, we throw away the waste.
And as we do, our detritus pollutes
The land and sea and air that we must use.
Oh Mother Earth, you're spoiled by human brutes!
The damage that is wrought, you can't excuse.
But soon you'll find a way to compensate,
For if you don't, then everything will die,
And as it stands, it may just be too late!
Bad weather, earthquakes, flare-ups now apply.
Oh Earth, your patience, only time can tell,
As climate alters, land and sea rebel.
| Author Notes |
This sonnet is part of a co-authored wreath of sonnets to bring attention to the importance of protecting our environment. Please read the others.
Each sonnet starts with the last line of the previous sonnet and the first lines create a 15th sonnet - called Master Sonnet. Please check out the rest of the sonnets marked by the same image. Ideally, they are read in order. The following poems belong to the wreath: Mater Sonnet by Kiwisteveh Sonnet 1 by Ciliverde Sonnet 2 by Tfawcus Sonnet 3 by Mfowler Sonnet 4 by Gloria Sonnet 5 by Just2write Sonnet 6 by The Death Sonnet 7 by Treischel Sonnet 8 by Domino2 Sonnet 9 by Kiwisteveh Sonnet 10 by Lightink Sonnet 11 Dorothy Fennell Sonnet 12 by Mountainwriter49 Sonnet 13 by Pantygynt Sonnet 14 by Debbie Noland |
By Treischel
Surgical steel reaps sterile doom,
limbs ripped and torn,
while pieces wrenched from mother's womb
are never born.
Lost promise of a child's bright life,
last vestige gone, by scrape of knife.
Say, who will cry, or weep, or mourn,
limbs ripped and torn?
From Satan's lie, "You have a choice,"
he pledged with scorn,
while innocents without a voice
have futures shorn.
In millions, human sacrifice,
disguised as medical device,
is worse than being crowned with thorns.
Limbs ripped and torn!
| Author Notes |
Yes, you have a choice. So did Eve.
As you can see, I am against abortion. It is a Holocaust of our own making. Here are some figures I have found. In 2014 there were 977,00 abortions in the US, 983,000 in 2013, 1.02 million in 2012, and 1.06 million in 2011. Since the passing of Roe v. Wade in 1973, there have been more than 40 million abortions. That's more babies killed than all the deaths in WWII. That's just in the USA. There is no worse EVIL in the world today, than abortion. Ask yourself. How evil are we compared to Hilter? Was the ancient practice of Human sacrifice worse than what we are doing? The practice of slavery pales in comparison. Yet we think it is OK, and justify it as our right to make a choice. Why? Because it is embarrassing, or inconvenient. Wake up and think about what we are doing! This picture is from Yahoo images. |
By Treischel
A teen, who was thought to be funky,
turned into a major drug junkie.
She got hooked on cocaine.
It has mottled her brain.
On back now, she carries that monkey.
Then it caused her to drop out of school,
and to break every civilized rule.
She surrendered her soul
with a fix as her goal,
and became an addicted young fool.
To increase the full strength of her breath,
she upgraded to pure crystal meth.
Soon her prospects were ruined,
as she suddenly swooned,
with an overdose causing her death.
| Author Notes |
Just a fiction. Not based on any real person, but it could be someone's reality.
This poem is a Limerick Suite. I saw several others posting them, so here is mine. This picture is from Yahoo Images. |
By Treischel
I drive in hectic traffic every day,
amazed at the complexities of dance
employed by drivers seeking to advance
to places they desire along the way.
At ramps and intersections they traverse,
In high-speed interactions, most complex.
With lane change, turns, crisscrosses, and the merge,
amazing that there aren't more mobile wrecks.
| Author Notes |
As I was driving an American freeway the other day. I was in the far right lane, with two lanes to my left, and an entrance lane to my right. The traffic was heavy and going about 60 MPH. Cars were switching lanes and merging beautifully without interruptions. It was a dance that inspired this poem.
This poem is a Heroic Rispetto. A Rispetto, an Italian form of poetry, is a complete poem of two rhyme quatrains with strict meter. The meter is usually iambic tetrameter with a rhyme scheme of abab ccdd. A Heroic Rispetto is written in Iambic pentameter, usually featuring the same rhyme scheme. However I did deviate to an equally acceptable rhyme scheme of: abba cdcd. This picture is from Yahoo images. I'll replace it with one of mine later. |
By Treischel
| Author Notes |
No images necessary.
This is an Anaphoric poem. That is when the use of Anaphora is applied to a speech, or writing, which is when a repeated word, or phrase, is emphasized to dramatically impact the work. The most famous use of Anaphora is by Dr. Martin Luther King in his speech, "I have a Dream." The audience is pounded with it again and again. |
By Treischel
Often is said, that the beauty of Poetry
carried on ripples of meter in fabulous
cadences marching in tandem victorious,
adds to its overall scholarly chemistry.
Figure in rhyming that makes it more difficult
writing a poem that is genuine artistry.
Yet, it can add a pure golden embroidery,
as in a storm the sky lights to a thunderbolt.
Oh, as I vie to it
Can't get enough of it.
| Author Notes |
This poem is in response to a challenge from Pantygynt, to write a pure Dactyl poem whereby each line ends in dactylic end rhyme, closing with two unstressed syllables. So here it is
This is a Dactyl Poem A Dactyl Poem is a verse, often used in Greek or Latin. While a Trochee is the opposite of an iamb, a Dactyl is the opposite of an Anapest. A Dactyl is a long syllable followed by two short syllables, as determined by syllable weight. In accentual verse, often used in English, it is a stressed syllable followed by two unstressed syllables. iambic - da Dum, da Dum trochaic - Dum da, Dum da anapestic - da da Dum, da da Dum dactylic - Dum da da, Dum da da |
By Treischel
In my garage, where I tinkered away,
with gizmos, and diodes, and flickering lights,
to find out the which-way each wire unites,
while building a massive machine array,
with its octopus arms that engulf the bay,
and dials watching the wrongs and the rights
of electrons, as the current excites
the passage of time upon the display.
"Hurrah!" I exclaimed in paroxysms of joy.
My garage had become a Time Machine.
So me in my car can travel through time
where all of the Epochs are there to enjoy
and History's genuine truths can be seen,
or reveal an unexpected paradigm.
I started quite small, going back just one year,
being sure I could go in and get back.
As success ensured I was on the right track
making methods of moments perfectly clear.
Prepared with the proper traveling gear,
I planned out the vital things that I should pack
for amazing trips through a time warp crack.
while praying that I won't just plain disappear.
Adrenaline rushes each time it starts up,
As apparatus starts loudly to whir.
Then POOF, it's engulfed in a bright hazy blur,
to be sent on the way without a hiccup
until stopped to find out where we were,
observing the historic actions closeup.
I visited eons I wanted to see --
the dinosaurs, Romans, some cowboys and kings.
Visited Lincoln's and Jefferson's dwellings,
smoked a peacepipe while in Red Cloud's teepee,
fished with Jesus on the Sea of Galilee,
sat rapt at Shakespeare's dramatic tellings,
and marveled at Merlin's wizardly spellings.
All was beyond I imagined to be.
Then I came up with a marvelous plan.
I'd fix on a timeframe, and then I'd commute,
to live in the present, but play in the past,
to leverage a forty year pricing span.
A house. a car, and a cabin to boot
are things through the time-warp will last.
I owned them back then, and own them today.
Where the prices were considerably cheap,
way before there was much inflation creep,
paid for them with my millennium pay.
When a mansion would cost only $40K,
and at $3K, a car was easy to keep,
whether Cadillac, muscle car, or a Jeep.
What a wonderful, new, time-traveling way!
Commuting in time is now my routine.
All nights are spent in nineteen sixty five.
I know all outcomes, so my gambling thrives,
since my days are here, in twenty fifteen.
I'm successfully settled, happy, alive,
and travel to places no others have seen.
| Author Notes |
This story poem is just a fantasy I often think about. Wouldn't it be cool if a garage could become a time machine, and anything in it would travel with you in what amounts to a pod? Of course you'd have to carefully plan each trip to the past, as it wouldn't be too good to run out of gas in the Jurassic, where there are no roads or gas stations.
This poem is structured like a Petrarchan Sonnet, with alternating Octaves and Sestets. All the Octaves are rhymed as: abbaabba, while the Sestets are varied as: cdecde, and cddcdc. The meter was mixed between 10 and 11 syllabic feet. This photograph is of a clock in our playroom that was taken by the author himself on February 6, 2019. |
By Treischel
Before, the earth was filled with ice,
the age of cold,
where mammoths ruled their frigid paradise
with woolly coats to those extremes sufficed,
before the climate change took hold.
Then air began its turning warm,
where new realities controlled,
became the norm
for young and old.
It's warmer now, by some degrees.
The trend goes on,
where natural cycles warm, then freeze.
The causes have no guarantees.
Adaptive species haven't gone
the ways of those that can't.
Though no conclusions are foregone,
while many rant
and lines are drawn.
Humanity does factor in.
To what extent
the scientists are ponderin',
which varies, where the stat's begin,
and hangs upon a deemed percent.
Will swings go on, no matter what?
Can natural forces circumvent
to undercut
this warmth event?
| Author Notes |
Yesterday it was -27 Degrees F here in Minnesota.
Although we are lead to believe that Global Warming is caused by human activity, to which all scientists agree. That is not true. That assumption is based on a very biased, governmentally controlled IPCC Report. In fact there an equal number of scientists who support the contrary NICPP Report. The Nongovernmental International Panel on Climate Change (NIPCC) was set up to examine the same climate data used by the United Nations-sponsored Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). On the most important issue, the IPC's claim that "most of the observed increase in global average temperatures since the mid-20th century is very likely (defined by the IPCC as between 90 to 99 percent certain) due to the observed increase in greenhouse gas concentrations," the NIPCC reaches the opposite conclusion - namely, that natural causes are very likely to be the dominant cause. Note: They do not say greenhouse (GH) gases cannot produce some warming, but conclude that the evidence shows they are not playing a significant role. IPCC Concerns: - The IPCC"s key personnel and lead authors were appointed by governments, and have been subject to approval by member governments of the UN. - The IPCC was an activist enterprise from the very beginning. Its agenda was to justify control of the emission of greenhouse gases. - From the very beginning, the IPCC was a political rather than scientific entity. - While we are often told about the thousands of scientists on whose work the Assessment reports are based, the vast majority of these scientists have no direct influence on the conclusions expressed by the IPCC. Those assessments are produced by an inner core of scientists, revised and agreed to, line-by-line, by representatives of member governments. - Its reports ignored available evidence against a human contribution to current warming and the substantial research of the past few years on the effects of solar activity on climate change. - its organization as a government entity beholden to political agendas is a major reason its conclusions are controversial - The large professional and financial rewards that go to scientists and bureaucrats who are willing to bend scientific facts to match those agendas is yet a another major reason for concern The NIPCC has found that "fingerprints" from best available observations with the results of state-of-the-art GH models leads to the conclusion that the (human-caused) Green House contribution is minor. The IPCC continues to undervalue the overwhelming evidence that, on decadal and century-long time scales, the Sun and associated atmospheric cloud effects are responsible for much of past climate change. The NIPPC Report is an equally voluminous and scientifically supported report that addresses a series of crucial topics, in addition to their overall finding stated above: - Computer models are unreliable guides to future climate conditions - Sea-level rise is not significantly affected by rise in GH gases - The data on ocean heat content have been misused to suggest anthropogenic warming. The role of GH gases in the reported rise in ocean temperature is largely unknown - Understanding of the atmospheric carbon dioxide budget is incomplete. - How Much of Modern Warming Is Anthropogenic is discussed - Higher concentrations of CO2 are more likely to be beneficial to plant and animal life and to human health than lower concentrations - The economic effects of modest warming are likely to be positive and beneficial to human health In conclusion, the imperfect understanding of the causes and consequences of climate change means the science is far from settled. This, in turn, means proposed efforts to mitigate climate change by reducing GH gas emissions are premature and misguided. Any attempt to influence global temperatures by reducing such emissions would be both futile and expensive. And so the debate rages, and is not universally settled as some would have us believe. Source: http://www.sepp.org/publications/NIPCC_final.pdf This poem is a Frost's Fire and Ice Format. Based on his poem of the same name. Robert Frost's Fire and Ice poem has 9 lines Rhyme Scheme: a-b-a-a-b-c-b-c-b. Syllable Count for Frost's poem is: 8-4-8-8-8-8-8-4-4. Stanzaic: Two or more 9 line stanzas. Metric: -Lines 1 AND 3 through 7 are iambic tetrameter -Lines 2, 8, AND 9 are iambic dimeter. This photograph was taken by the author himself on the street in front of his house on February 2, 2016. |
By Treischel
| Author Notes |
I just have to speak out. Here are the statistics;
http://www.numberofabortions.com/ But hear me out, I have a possible solution. The slippery slope of immorality embedded in Roe v. Wade is coming to fruition. That ruling must be struck down. Abortion must be made illegal again everywhere. The inconvenience of a few women is far outweighed by the overall evil being perpetrated. I propose that our society approach this in a new way by providing incentives to young women to give birth. We should outlaw abortion, and enact a law that gives a young mother $10,000 to give up a healthy newborn for adoption, $5,000 if it is unhealthy, and cover all her medical expenses. If she decides to keep it, give her $20,000 to help her start that new life on a better footing. This would be cheaper in the long run and help alleviate some part of poverty as well. The image is an actual sonogram of my granddaughter Skylah. She is now 5 years old, and in 1st Grade. |
By Treischel
“One does not sell the earth
upon which the people walk” – Crazy Horse
The native view
on property
contrasted with
the white-man’s plans.
And so the fated culture clash
resulted in
Destiny’s Tragedy.
| Author Notes |
I contrasted here the dichotomy of the rationalization that winning the west was our nation's "Manifest Destiny."
Crazy Horse was a Native American war leader of the Oglala Lakota in the 19th century. He took up arms against the United States federal government to fight against encroachment by white American settlers on Native American territory and to preserve the traditional way of life of the Lakota people. His participation in several famous battles of the American Indian Wars on the northern Great Plains, among them the Fetterman Fight in 1866 in which he acted as a decoy and the Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876 in which he led a war party to victory, earned him great respect from both his enemies and his own people. Source: Wikipedia. This poem is a Sapphonic Triad. This form is an invention of our own Cliverde (Carol) and Pantygynt (Jim). The form is as follows: - A two-line quotation (Free verse but the max total of sixteen syllables must be concise and memorable) - followed by a quatrain, four lines each of four syllables - finally an 8-4-6 syllable envoi that moves us on somewhere...it should have a "satori" feeling. - You can use rhyme if you want. The picture is of the Crazy Horse Monument in South Dakota. |
By Treischel
Oh how God loves diversity! I see it everywhere in his creation. In all the plants and animals, diversity abounds. You see it in the trees. You see it in the flowers, in dogs and cats, in birds, in clouds. So many things are similar, yet no individual thing is the same. So too in humans. It is a beautiful wonder.
Here is a true story about diversity that happened while I was working as a manager in a large corporation. It was before I retired, I think around 2001. My boss, the director of our Procurement Department, came to me about a new corporate initiative involving the topic of "Diversity." This was a new concept in business at that time. He asked me to come up with a way to show our department's depth of diversity, but we had no guidelines on how to do that, or what exactly that meant. We had a group of about 200 buyers and 30 subcontract administrators at that time. I thought about it a while and finally came up with a plan.
I started by getting a large wall-size map of the world backed with a thin cardboard, and hung it in a prominent hallway in the main area. Then I got a bunch of pushpins from Office Supply. Following that, I went around and asked every person what were their nationalities. I put a pin in the map of every country that was represented. It filled the whole world. We had some from Hawaii, Madagascar, Ethiopia, Russia, Italy, Spain, England, Germany, France, Ireland...almost everywhere. I was pleased with the result.
Next I got a huge image of a tree with many branches and hung it beside the World map. I asked everyone what colleges they attended. You see, you required a college degree to get a position within the Procurement Department. Once I had that information, I looked up and cut out the logos from each of the colleges and pasted them on the branches of that tree. It made a wonderful collage. I was amazed at how many were represented.
Both got the attention of many people throughout the entire office building, and people often walking by would stop, point things out, and engage in discussions about them. This is what I believed diversity truly represented. My boss was pleased too. Imagine our surprise when we found out that it wasn't about that at all. They wanted to know only about how many Black, Hispanic, and Asian people worked in our department. How sad.
I think that it is a shame there is only one category for "white" people. After all, an Irishman is not a Frenchman, Norwegian, Russian, or a German. We shouldn't be focused so narrowly. Shouldn't diversity be viewed and celebrated more in the manner that I had considered back in 2001?
| Author Notes | This is a true story. I think the world would be a better place if were were less narrowly defined. I certainly don't see people by their skin color. It is a shame that some do. |
By Treischel
No Tocsin alarm din this silent assassin.
Once tallies begin we are in to a tailspin.
No chagrin can unpin conflagrations.
Now the danger within is akin to the fin
of a shark swimmin' in a dark troubled ocean,
wherein handshakes can win devastations.
Our fear is quite clear, no ambiguity here!
We must all persevere 'til the deaths disappear,
and adhere to austere separations.
When our jobs interfere, while friends are too near
'cause contagions appear 'cross the hemisphere
it's a year now of shear complications
The economy's blown to a vast global groan
as statistics have shown we are fatefully prone
to some viral unknown implications.
As we sit here alone, like the experts condone
only connected by phone, our leaders intone,
all the rules that enthrone mitigations.
This toxic organic, causes wide-spread panic,
each case catatonic at overwhelmed clinic
achieves messianic ministrations
Increasingly manic, the public stress chronic
Satanic disease makes the pressure volcanic
the tonic, galvanic protestations.
Masks may keep it away, as will distance allay
the feral sway of this stray viral stowaway.
We will spray to delay contaminations.
We pray that each day keeps pandemic away.
In our homes we will stay, 'til leaders say it's OK
to resume everyday celebrations.
| Author Notes |
Just some random thoughts on our Global Pandemic.
Definitions: Ambiguity - vague, or having multiple meanings Austere - strict, severe Catatonic -unconscious, in a stupor Conflagration - big fire, explosive discharge Contagion -rapid spread, easy spread of disease Contamination - infections, polute, make impure Din- clamor, noise Feral - savage, wild, dangerous Galvanic - stimulate Manic - unpredictable, disorganized, excessive Messianic - to effect major change Ministrations - to aid, assist, attend to Mitigation - reduce, make less harsh Pandemic - widespread outbreak Tocsin - alarm bell Volcanic - explosive This poem is a series or interlocking Tercets. I designed this one with a syllable count of 12, 12, 10 in variable meter. The rhyme scheme pairs the first two lines of each Tercet with the following Tercet, in groupings of two stanzas. The third line rhyme carries through every line stanza of the poem. So it looks as follows: aab aab ccb ccb ddb ddb eeb eeb. |
By Treischel
Had a child Had a boy Boy was wild Boy was joy Joy to father Joy to mother Mother raised him Mother anxious Anxious of dangers Anxious outside Outside for play time Outside for fun Fun playin’ Injuns Fun playin’ cowboys Cowboys ride horses Cowboys shoot guns Guns are for shooting Guns all around Around with the street gangs Around all the town Town has a problem Town swamped with crime Crime kills the future Crime on the rise Rise up against it Rise with the time Time carries message Time for recruitment Recruitment of soldiers Recruitment for country Country is calling Country of freedom Freedom from dangers Freedom for all All so defenseless All wanting heroes Heroes with courage Heroes with guns Guns killing bad guys Guns holding borders Borders of countries Borders unknown Unknown the worries Unknown the dangers Dangers surrounding Dangers grow worse Worse even than death Worse to our boy Boy Death
| Author Notes |
This message blitzed through several streams of thought, like a Blitz Poem is supposed to do. Went from birth to death courtesy of the military. Now, I didnâ??t mean this to be anti-military, or anti-gun. It doesnâ??t always work out that way. It just flowed the way it did through the word connections. I thank all military for their patriotic service. But some do end up dead. If we donâ??t get better leadership soon, more will.
This poem is a Blitz Poem. The Blitz Poem is an invented verse form that is a kind of twisted Chain Verse. It was created by Robert Keim and is found on line at Shadow Poetry. The poem is a rush of phrases and images with rapid repetition as if creating a sudden and intense attack on the senses. The poem throws thought afterthought at the reader in quick succession, with the repetitions of words being the only thing reminiscent of a real pause or break. The blitz poem has 50 lines, and they can be any length you like, though shorter usually works best. There is no rhyme scheme and no set rhythm. The first forty-eight lines follow a pattern where each pair of lines starts with the same word, and this word is the last word of the preceding line. Your third and fourth lines must begin with the last word of the second line. Continue in this pattern for 48 lines. Line 49 is simply the last word of line 48, and line 50 (the last line of the poem) is the last word of line 47. |
By Treischel
All wildlife thrive within these healthy wetlands, as nature there displays diversity in all its universal majesty so often found in solitary backlands. Where fowls and reptiles choose to make their homelands while undisturbed there, wild and free, as their environments were meant to be, there flight and plight, there need and feed meet demands. But can surroundings ever stay serene, when progress pushes past the wetland’s shore? Are man’s incursions here forevermore? Too often their insistence intervenes, though wildlife’s too important to ignore. Consider their existence on the scene.
| Author Notes |
This picture was taken at the Maplewood Nature Center in North St. Paul, Minnesota. I have taken several photos there. In the poem I refer to fowl and reptiles as that's what's in the image, but there are Egrets, Blue Herons, and even a nesting Sandhill Crane hiding in the reeds, that I haven't been able to get a good picture of yet. Also, a mink that has been elusive so for. I have captured a Great Horned Owl though.
This poem is a Petrarchan Sonnet. The Original Italian sonnet form divides the poem's 14 Lines into two parts, the first part being an Octave and the second being a Sestet. The Rhyme Scheme for the Octave is typically: a b b a a b b a. The Sestet is more flexible. The Sestet and can have either two or three rhyming sounds, arranged in a variety of ways: c d c d c d (two Rhymes) c d d c d c (two Rhymes) c d e c d e (three Rhymes) c d e c e d (three Rhymes) c d c e d c (three Rhymes) The rhyme scheme for this poem is: abbaabba cddcdc. Note that I used feminine iambic meter in several lines resulting in a 11th soft syllable. In strict practice, the one thing that is to be avoided in the Sestet is ending with a Couplet (dd or ee), as this was never permitted in Italy, and Petrarch himself (supposedly) never used a Couplet Ending; in actual practice, Sestets are sometimes ended with Couplets (Sidney's "Sonnet LXXI given is an example of such a Terminal Couplet in an Italian sonnet). One ending with such a Terminal Couplet would be an Italian Sonnet, but not a Petrarchan Sonnet. Therein lies the distinction. The Octave and Sestet have special functions in a Petrarchan Sonnet. The Octave's purpose is to introduce a problem, express a desire, reflect on reality, or otherwise present a situation that causes doubt or conflict within the speaker. It usually does this by introducing the problem within its first Quatrain (unified four-line section) and developing it in the second. |
By Treischel
Silent steel butterflies
carry malicious messages
in worried skies of annihilation
Past
sleeping radars and
unwary watch towers
The rocket strikes
spewing ancient rot around it
like a vomiting volcano
arousing pain
arousing violent counteraction
seeking to be free
Unleashing chaos
Slinging arrows of death
over the Sultan’s sands
where
the blood runs red
in a mixed emulsion
that grips the soul
The sucking muck of primal slime
pulls the achilles,
holding society’s boot
fast as a convict’s vices
Reaching up causes anguish
breaks the seal
When weeping begins
marching in silent bootsteps
see the meaningless salute
to a half-raised flag
| Author Notes |
This is written in response to the recent drone attack in Iraq by Iranian proxies that killed 3 Americans and wounded 41. I wrote this after watching President Biden receive the dead at Dover Airforce Base and then saw his weak response in retaliation.
Primordial slime represents the bloody soil from all wars of all time. |
By Treischel
(The viewpoint of a Jewish Zealot present when Jesus was challenged about stoning a prostitute)
I am ashamed to say, I held a stone
that day that Jesus freed the prostitute
from ploy that Pharisees would Institute,
with evil based instructions at its root.
A Torah-trap devised for Him alone.
To stone adulterers is Moses’ Law
I am ashamed to say, I held a stone
when Jesus shocked me to my very bone.
He charged me to review the sins I own.
Rebellion, murder, rape - is what I saw.
As Jewish Zealot forced to understand
those evil deeds for which I must atone,
I am ashamed to say, I held a stone.
“No better than this woman”, I bemoan.
This Jesus touched my heart with His demand.
Am I a saint, allowed to cast the first?
My presence here at all, I can’t condone.
our dogma and hypocrisy is shown.
I am ashamed to say, I held a stone.
Now see that my intentions were the worst.
So on that day no judgement stone was thrown
by Jesus or by others present there.
Nobody there could bear His burning stare.
We left, heads down, with her within His care.
I am ashamed to say, I held a stone.
| Author Notes |
This poem is based on the Gospel of John 8:1-11. I took the view of one of the participants who were there ready and able to stone the woman. Of how Jesus impacted their actions on that day. The Jewish leaders had set up this trap to see what Jesus would do. Either he supported the law of Moses and helped to stone the woman, or went against the law and was a false prophet. He handled the situation without doing either.
This poem is a Quinquerne. A Quinquerne is a creation of Fanstorian, Pantygynt (Jim Bartlett). It uses ten syllables per line of iambic pentameter. The Quinquerne, as its name suggests, works in multiples of five - five Quintrains of enveloping rhyme (two around three), with the first line, repeated as a refrain line cascading line by line through each Quintrain. The rhyme scheme which, unlike the Quatern, is essential with this form. The rhyme scheme is Abbba, cAaac, daAad, eaaAe, afffA, where the capital letter indicates the repeated line. Feminine endings may be employed, but would not, however, be stipulated as a requirement of the form. |
By Treischel
God doesn’t measure time the way that we do.
It is very hard for us to comprehend.
Multidimensional time is most unusual.
Having neither a beginning nor an end.
Speeds at which He sees are infinitesimal.
Faster than we can know as nanoseconds,
At the same time stretching out for all epochs.
A dichotomy to which only Deity responds.
So creation may have been in picoseconds,
As where trillions represent our human days,
While enactment stretched out over many eons.
All His time seen in an Alpha and Omega gaze.
God knows every past and future all at once
And He answers 16 billion prayers a day,
Think of evolution for just a minute.
God’s thoughts progressing at incremental speed
Sets in place the progression of each species
Activated in their proper places as decreed.
Fancy evolution passing through His mind,
Smiling as new nuances are imagined
From amoebas to the birds then unto humans
As experiments are tried and then refined.
All creation happening in an instant
As he ponders all the possibilities
History stretched between the pages of all time
To greet Darwin’s conjured up eventualities.
God knows every past and future all at once
And He answers 16 billion prayers a day.
| Author Notes |
Can Creation and Darwin be compatible? Here is my feeble attempt to reconcile them. Yes, I know there are not 16 billion people on the earth today, but I do recognize that many pray more than once. I portray evolution coming as a WHOOSH to Him, but activated over human time to us. Speaking as refining as He creates, I sure am glad He moved off utters when coming to humans.
This poem is structured as a series of abcb rhymed quatrains and a repeating couplet. The meter is a mix mostly 11 or 13 syllables and a couple 12 's snuck in. |
By Treischel
The Boom (Rondeau Redouble with envoi) Genesis 1 and 2 “When God began creating the heavens and the earth, the earth was at first a shapeless chaotic mass, with the spirit of God brooding over the dark vapors. And God said, Let there be light.” He brooded as the vapors were compressed while thoughts were spinning through his sacred mind. The pull of darkness sharply coalesced as thoughts and vapors rapidly aligned. The particles got more and more confined. The darkest gasses started to congest so dense that they were strongly intertwined. He brooded as the vapors were compressed. Soon all the forming molecules were stressed, and worldly notions yet to be refined, created visions soon to be expressed while thoughts were spinning through His sacred mind The core of all the chaos was refined to form a pulsing bead actions invest with all the force a universe can bind. The pull of darkness sharply coalesced. The present plans can only God attest were formed the special way that He defined. Consolidated once at His behest as thoughts and vapors rapidly aligned. When pressured atom quarks became distressed, a universe imagined as inclined by God who has ensured that we be blessed beyond our comprehension, things combined. He Brooded. He squeezed the mass with all his might Then God said, “Let there be light.” BOOM!!!
| Author Notes |
As noted in the beginning, I believe that the Bible version of creation is truely compatible with the scientific theory of The Big Bang, which describes a small tiny bead so strongly compressed with dense matter that it exploded to form the whole Universe. I keyed off the biblical term the God brooded over the dark vapors, which scientists might defint as Dark Matter.
This poem basically uses the format of a Rondeau Redouble which, uses the four lines of the first stanza in sequence as refrains in the last line of each succeeding stanza, and a phrase from the first refrain is repeated at the end of the final stanza. I then added a 3 line envoi to create the final effect. The image is a photograph I took of a Fourth of July fireworks |
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