The
FORM-of-the-MONTH for November is (for now, at least) called:
Progressive Sonnet Progressive Sonnet is the tentative name for a 'form' that Norm Pollock (Normpo) introduced to us this month, without offering the parameters. Since he did that, I both guessed at them and then 'expanded' it, both offering the name 'Progressive Sonnet' and expanding its parameters. So, as a work-in-progress, let me 'define' the form as follows:
1. It has 14 lines with any of the standard rhyme schemes of any of the varieties of sonnets.
2. The metrical pattern may have any EVEN number of syllables, but the number of syllables increases / decreases by 2 in succeeding sections or lines following some kind of pattern.
3. A word or words from the end of lines 4 and 8
(and 12, if you choose) is/are repeated in some fashion at the beginning of lines 5 and 9
(and 13, if you choose) respectively.
4. Use your imagination! [ Rule 4 may later be eliminated.
]
Here are Norm's first two (the original, pure version) followed by three of mine:
Goodby'd - Hello'd
With love goodby'd,
(and rightly so),
as time denied
that love to grow
we grew apart, of course,
on paths that never crossed
as if some unknown force
kept hiding what we'd tossed.
But tossing made it better now
'cause youth would never comprehend
the depth of feeling...to know how
to equate beginnings to the end.
Those hollow years, upon us they bestowed
all we live here ...our love has been hello'd. © Norman S. Pollack He's "Just Daniel"
He writes so well
this man of wit;
with head not swelled
this man has writ
with writing skills so keen
in every form we'd name;
with plays on words not seen
nor penned with greater fame.
More famous bards have made their marks
And scribbled down their pithy verse;
but on this train where he embarked,
the only way to reimburse
the guy for all the smiles he has brought
I say, "Your efforts, friend are not for naught! © Norman S. Pollack progressive son etude
I tend in form
to find my wit --
while 'neath the Norm...
my aim's legit:
legitimately paint
inside faint numbered lines
while trying not to taint
traditions long-defined...
but long-confined, leap from the box
and scrawl out mots upon a wall;
they fall outside what's orthodox
or seem to make no sense at all.
Yet when the ink is dry, it's sometimes odd
how evenly they flow, however flawed. © MLee Dickens'son 01 Nov 2007
as my first ‘progressive sonnet’ Beneath a Veil
Beneath a veil
of tears I live,
so if I start to wail
I hope you will forgive…
for given as I am to loose the pain,
please look upon me not as vile.
My happiness at last will come again
when once I’ve let my feelings talk a while.
A while ago I may have thought it evil to
allow emotions out; I had to be a man,
and Levis men don’t cry. I struggled hard ‘til I could screw
my upper lip and jaw to form a nondescript deadpan.
But now I see it’s almost vile to veil life’s painful truths behind
an evil, smiling mask… live in the open; what I seek, I’ll find. © MLee Dickens'son 01 Nov 2007
plus-progressive anagram sonnet Life to Dry Bones
Dry bones
bleached in the sun...
life gone, detached, alone
strewn in the valley... not a one —
to — one relationship... sinew and flesh
discarded without hope to taste of life, nor hear
the Voice Who calls. We stir and gather nonetheless...
all ears, though yet His purpose is not clear.…
It’s clear we have no life; He breathes...
Voila! We feel the Light;
we see that He’s
the Height
of all there is and ever will be here.
We rise with Him; He whispers, “Child, draw near.”
© MLee Dickens'son 04 Nov 2007
meditation on Ezekiel 37