The River Thames with St. Paul's Cathedral in the background, by Antonio GiovanniPoetry Challenge: Write a Tetra-Pentameter Poem The Society October 2, 2021 Poetry, Poetry Contests 42 Comments Write a rhyming poem that works as either ten lines of tetrameter or eight lines of pentameter. Post it in the comments section below. This challenge comes from poet Paul Erlandson who learned of it some time ago from his friend Russ Smith. Paul’s example is below: . A Winter’s Eucharist (London, 1990) A winter’s Eucharist I took At noon, with Cranmer’s little book My fork and spoon to eat the bread Of heaven as we sung and read, The blood of Jesus on my tongue. St. Paul’s Cathedral round me rung With late echoes of Donne and Wren. How very great out God is then Who on His wise wheel spun the sun, As well as Messrs. Wren and Donne! . A winter’s Eucharist I took at noon, With Cranmer’s little book my fork and spoon To eat the bread of heaven as we sung— (And red the blood of Jesus on my tongue). St. Paul’s Cathedral round me rung with late Echoes of Donne and Wren. How very great Our God is then, who on His wise wheel spun The sun, as well as Messrs. Wren and Donne! . . NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 42 Responses James A. Tweedie October 2, 2021 As Summer Slowly Fades Away to Fall As summer slowly fades away To fall, with every shortening day The cheerful call of meadowlarks Grows silent in the trees and parks, As cooler air stirs memories Of winter with each morning breeze. And when the golden leaves are shed, The branches then, though seeming dead, Will celebrate the days and raise Their hands upward to God in praise. As summer slowly fades away to fall, With every shortening day the cheerful call Of Meadowlarks grows silent in the trees And parks, as cooler air stirs memories Of winter with each morning breeze. And when The golden leaves have shed, the branches then, Though seeming dead, will celebrate the days And raise their hands upward to God in praise. Reply Paul W Erlandson October 2, 2021 Mr. Tweedie … Just excellent! You hit all the marks, with nothing seeming forced, and it all rolls up to a very satisfying conclusion! I am very impressed! Reply James A. Tweedie October 2, 2021 Paul, thanks for both the kind word as well as for the challenge itself. As for your own fine poem I was drawn back to a number of happy memories of worship, concerts and general awe in several visits to St. Paul’s dating back to 1966, although I do not recall ever receiving Communion there. Your riff on Wren and Donne was clever and (of course) well donne. Julian D. Woodruff October 2, 2021 Terrific, James, and seeming quite effortless! Hats off! Reply Sandi Christie October 2, 2021 It was terrific and it took him at least 5 or even 6 minutes to complete it. (He was slacking!) Leonard Dabydeen October 4, 2021 Splendid. Beautiful flow of thoughts and excellent rhyme scheme. Enjoy the read, James A. Tweedie. Reply Roy E. Peterson October 7, 2021 James, I am really taken with your great matching twin tetrameter and pentameter poems. I have reread them several times. Not only does the rhyme and meter fit, but the words and final lines inspire! Reply Michelle O'Brien October 8, 2021 I LOVE that so much!!! What a great poem and great metre, it was a pleasure to read outloud to myself x2 🙂 Thank you! Reply Joe Tessitore October 2, 2021 Hats off to Mr. Earlandson and Mr. Tweedie and to anyone else who manages to submit one of these. What a truly remarkable accomplishment! Reply Paul W Erlandson October 3, 2021 Thanks, Joe!! Reply Roy E. Peterson October 7, 2021 I could not agree more with you, Joe! Reply Julian D. Woodruff October 2, 2021 “Eights are my size, but tens feel so good I wear twelves”—Adage I heard in elementary school from Thomas Caldwell, violinist extraordinaire Wear It Anyway As my first music teacher used to say to students, quite amused, “You know, eights are the size that fit these poor, sore feet. But hey, no bit as good as tens are they—by far the size that I prefer. You are aware, twelves have their points. In thick new woolen hose my feet feel sick, and sweat if there’s no air that flows to make a draft around my toes.” As my first music teacher used to say, to students, quite amused, “You know, eights are the size that fit these poor, sore feet. But hey, no bit as good as tens are they—by far the size that I prefer. You are aware, twelves have their points. In thick new woolen hose my feet feel sick, and sweat if there’s no air that flows to make a draft around my toes.” Reply Paul W Erlandson October 3, 2021 What fun! I think I’ll stop at size 10, though. Reply Julian D. Woodruff October 3, 2021 Oops, I guess I should change “But say …” to “But hey …”; and also close the quotation at the end. Reply Mike Bryant October 3, 2021 How’s that, Julian? Leonard Dabydeen October 4, 2021 Fun reading! You make the poems resonate with a joyous flow of the rhyme scheme, Julian D. Woodruff. Reply Jeff Kemper October 2, 2021 A Brief Colloquy At fifty-five I said to Sue, “Dear Sue who bore me children, two, Oh don’t you wish with me that we Had had some more by count of three To bring our offspring count to five? What joy would we by now derive!” Said she, “My darling Jeff, old boy, Five kids you say? Would you annoy Me with more chaos and more pain? Oh tell me true: Are you insane?” When I was fifty-five I told my wife, Who bore us offspring numbering two, “Our life Would be the richer, darling Sue, if we Had had more children by a count of three. Five kids. O wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Said she, “Oh darling Jeff, a blunder-full Household our home might be, besides the pain In excess for poor me. Are you insane?” Reply Paul W Erlandson October 3, 2021 Perhaps it doesn’t meet the “letter” of the challenge, but it certainly meets the spirit. Thanks! (We stopped at two also.) Reply Jeff Kemper October 11, 2021 I’m sorry, I missed that you were calling for the same words and word order throughout! Ack! Sandi Christie October 2, 2021 That Place Within the Heart As the light fades into the break Of dawn, and still I lie awake As night drags on into the birth Of just another day on earth. I take a moment now to pray, Transported very far away Outside of time where timelessness Is testified at Your Address. That place within the heart of Hearts Where we can never be apart. As the light fades into the break of dawn And still, I lie awake as night drags on Into the birth of just another day On earth. I take a moment now to pray, Transported very far away outside Of time where timelessness is testified At Your Address. That place within the heart Of Hearts where we can never be apart. Reply Paul W Erlandson October 3, 2021 Nicely done! I’m happy to see so many taking up the challenge and succeeding. Reply Sandi Christie October 4, 2021 Thank you and thank you for your fine example, this sure was challenging! Ryan P. Tunison October 3, 2021 Distant Over Ocean Bounds Distant over ocean bounds I Oft hear beauties at leisured lie, In songful sneer upon the rock Of sailors’ woe where hulls did knock, Desperate to escape the lulls That sweet did sound over wave rolls. They come by tide, these myths, to meet Me as a hum far incomplete Like that attempt my heart to dart Away from what love does impart. Distant over ocean bounds I oft hear Beauties at leisured lie, in songful sneer Upon the rock of sailors’ woe where hulls Did knock, desperate to escape the lulls That sweet did sound over wave rolls. They come By tide, these myths, to meet me as a hum Far incomplete like that attempt my heart To dart away from what love does impart. Reply Mia October 3, 2021 The Eternal Soul The eternal soul comes down as a flame to shine, Like a lantern to glow on this earth and to light Some kindness and love to banish the cold, But the heart of the human can be selfish and bold It is full of its needs and refuses to spark, Like a snake in the desert that hides in the sand It will burrow with stealth and will bite all at hand For it knows how to poison until nothing can stand; But this heart will not last, like a stone it will smash And the flame will ignite with the fire of God’s wrath. Reply Mia October 9, 2021 Sorry got the brief wrong. Thought we could choose to write either in tetrameter or pentameter ( although reading all the other brilliantly crafted poems should have given me a clue…) As this poem is supposed to be anapaestic tetrameter it is not going to work so well in pentameter. Reply Ravi Choks October 9, 2021 Guess at times we all get things wrong. But one wrong led to one right- a beautiful poem you penned!! So it’s par for the course! Leonard Dabydeen October 4, 2021 BIKE RIDER When I was just thirteen and three The youth of life belonged to me. Or so I thought, riding my bike With gusto and speed as I liked. The girls coming off a school bus Would turn their eyes without a fuss, Knowing that Leo was passing Riding his bike, bell was ringing. Until that particular day It rained. I slipped, fell. Poor display. PELICANS Morning at the sea-shore, watch pelicans Silently waiting, no politicians Casting a vote for their first wind-rush meal. All keeping a keen eye for the prize; deal. To each his own around the mound of rock Where the fishes will falter on the dock. With azure sky and early morning sun, The pelicans watch shoreline breakfast run. Reply Richard Lackman October 4, 2021 The beauty all around me-Richard Lackman I saw a bluebird fly today Across the field, across the bay And though this was a common thing Somehow it caused my heart to sing I realized in seeing this All the beauty I daily miss And so much goodness I don‘t see I wonder what is wrong with me We are so blessed to just be here How can I forget life so dear I saw a bluebird flying on the wing And realized ‘twas such a pretty thing How had I never seen this sight before Have I been blinded to this and much more I don’t appreciate all that I see As obvious as this is now to me Oh God remind me how much I am blessed Consider all my errors now confessed Reply Paul Freeman October 6, 2021 The Canterbury Tales – General Prologue Extract When April frees its soothing rain, the drought of March is deftly slain and put to rout, while every leaf and every moistened root brings grief to Winter through Pan’s springtime flute. The West Wind breathes on every shoot and stirs the verdant grass, the trees, the heathland furze while o’er the breeze a newly-minted eye aims high, ascending England’s vernal sky. When April frees its soothing rain, the drought of March is deftly slain and put to rout, while every leaf and every moistened root brings grief to Winter through Pan’s springtime flute. The West Wind breathes on every shoot and stirs the verdant grass, the trees, the heathland furze while o’er the breeze the newly-minted eye aims high, ascending England’s vernal sky. Reply Paul W Erlandson October 6, 2021 Mr. Freeman … this is an excellent fulfillment of the challenge! Very well done!! Reply Paul Freeman October 6, 2021 Thanks, Paul. Your excellent example set a high bar, added to which it helps that I’m a great Chaucer aficionado. Mia October 6, 2021 Thank you so much for another fun and educative challenge. Riplejaberock ‘Twas dillam and the fovis ploves Did dryme and dundle in the jabe All fovos were the dromogoves And the Dom Gurs outjabe. “Beware the Riplejaberock my son, The nive that stings, the prod that smarts! Beware the Jabjab bird and shun The foderous kindersnatch!” Reply Mia October 10, 2021 Now Mr Anderson if you said this was a watermelon I would agree with you. Only because it doesn’t belong here. In fact I might say, in this instance you were being kind as it is more of a mash potato as far as this challenge is concerned. I will leave it for another day and another kind of challenge but perhaps I should ask you very kindly to remove it. Reply David Watt October 9, 2021 A Bottomless Appetite I had a dog of breed unknown To light my days when all alone, And firmly bite the rump of those Who dared disturb my sweet repose. I thought my restful life complete; As bitten callers, in defeat, Would make a dash for safer zones. But armed with steak and juicy bones, They overcame their fears. Through tears I saw that tender cuts beat rears! I had a dog of breed unknown to light My days when all alone, and firmly bite The rump of those who dared disturb my sweet Repose. I thought my restful life complete; As bitten callers, in defeat, would make A dash for safer zones. But armed with steak And juicy bones, they overcame their fears. Through tears I saw that tender cuts beat rears! Reply Paul W Erlandson October 9, 2021 Very nicely done, Mr. Watt! Reply Ravi Choks October 9, 2021 A NEW LOVEFIELD Eyeball to eyeball, ol’ foes met On field to settle one blood debt That has not healed and shall not heal For aeons more to come- they squeal And wail and cry and stay so glum Soon we sháll hear beat of war drum Alarmed earth waits with bated breath Will it be harmed? Dark stare of death None wish- But now they sigh- guess why? Their kids eloped beyond blue sky!! Eyeball to eyeball, ol’ foes met on field To settle one blood debt that has not healed And shall not heal for aeons more to come They squeal and wail and cry and stay so glum Soon we sháll hear beat of war drum- alarmed Earth waits with bated breath- Will it be harmed? Dark stare of death none wish- But now they sigh Guess why? Their kids eloped beyond blue sky!! Reply Ravi Choks October 9, 2021 A NEW LOVEFIELD Eyeball to eyeball, ol’ foes met On field to settle one blood debt That has not healed and shall not heal For aeons more to come- they squeal And wail and cry and stay so glum Soon we sháll hear beat of war drum Alarmed earth waits with bated breath Will it be harmed? Dark stare of death None wish- But now they sigh- guess why? Their kids eloped ‘yond yonder sky!! Eyeball to eyeball, ol’ foes met on field To settle one blood debt that has not healed And shall not heal for aeons more to come They squeal and wail and cry and stay so glum Soon we sháll hear beat of war drum- alarmed Earth waits with bated breath- Will it be harmed? Dark stare of death none wish- But now they sigh Guess why? Their kids eloped ‘yond yonder sky!! Reply Mia October 11, 2021 Thank you for your very kind comment and well done to you for succeeding at such a difficult challenge. Mia Mia October 10, 2021 I was going to write that I hope this is third time lucky. But I have learned from Mr Salemi, that poetry is hard work rather than luck. Thank you. This challenge is really difficult but well worth it. And Thank you Mr Erlandson. When ewes for shelter search And new life seeks the light, When fine, tender shoots unwind And snowdrops peep beneath The melting ice, these sights do point ’Tis time to plough and plant and sow. Now is the time to leave the hearth And blaze just as the generous earth Itself bestirs, in wishing to bestow, Another glorious and abundant show. When sturdy ewes for shelter search And sleepy, dormant life awakes at last, When delicate, trembling shoots grow fast And shy snowdrops peep, serene and fresh, Beneath the melting ice, these sights do show ’Tis time to plough and plant and sow. It’s time To leave the hearth and blaze just as the generous Earth, to give, a glorious and abundant show. Reply Ravi Choks October 11, 2021 I too must thank for comments nice What more an artist wish in life We write to seek infinite peace To hide hewn heart from mundane strife Reply Miqa October 14, 2021 The marionette with no strings attached, After every performance, wooden bones collapse. Her ringing ears collecting dust, A puppeteers strings rely only on trust. She slouches when no one is watching, The sting of the encore approaching. An audience that has no faces, She’s tired of the constant praises. A portrait of Van Gogh The rise and fall of a puppet show. The marionette with no strings attached Her passion, roaring, remains unmatched. With ever graceful step, a new bridge is burned, For every ticked bought, a new brown bruise is earned. With rosy lips and a blood stained cheek, From the same crimson face, salty tears leak. And after every bow, the night draws near, She waves to the crowd, still smiling out of fear. Reply Stephen Kingsnorth October 15, 2021 Cornish Methodism A welcome for the peasant folk. Swift under siege, nest, eaves of oak, and jenny Wren, that tiny bird, in pecking order, place absurd, but sings, scurries round door coir mat, where dusk-fall swings low wing of bat. This village chapel, Wesley’s plea, sung Bible texts in harmony; when all is done, by sermon said, exclusive church? Here all share bread. Coir mat for peasant folk without prestige, in oak eaves, mud caked nest, swift under siege; a squeeze box organ, Wesley wheeze with zeal, this village chapel, Cornish common-wheal, a tabernacle raised tin mining men, steps clog-marked, workers’ climb, past kettle wren. Sermon built, slumber party, wall texts wrung, preaching done, commonwealth, grace said and sung. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.