Indulge to Bulge. A poem in the Décima or Espinela style.

A new Poetry Challenge is coming and here is another of my examples. The How To follows.

Indulge to Bulge

Blissful longing of butter fat,
Floating above the sea of blame
Renders worthy of the blue flame.
What’s now a spare tire, once was flat.

Crying for more from the spoiled brat,
Brings forth the lazy quelling hands.
Then blames the obese on lax glands.
Fail to heed the words of the wise
Leads to chaffed thighs or heart that dies.
Toss the flans, cans, and frying pans.

 

 

10 lines with each having 8 syllables.

Sometimes people divide the lines into two stanzas of four and six. A pause after the fourth which means a period or semicolon is warranted. Some divide in other ways depending on where they learned Espinela, but all are 10 lines and…

…8 syllables to each line with

a rhyming pattern of abba/accddc

Traditional themes of old have been philosophical, religious, lyrical, political, and satirical humor. But you can do whatever you like as the theme can be anything, but I may be setting themes or a couple of words as part of the challenge.

This form of poetry is known as an Espinela or décima poem of octameter (more or less eight syllables). The form is named after Vicente Gómez Martínez-Espinel (baptized December 28, 1550, Ronda, Málaga, Spain—died February 4, 1624, Madrid) an expelled university student who entered the army, was a rogue, and eventually was ordained into the priesthood. He was a contemporary of Cervantes., who is probably most known for writing Don Quixote. Espinel is alternately credited with creating the style or reviving it. Whichever it is, we have it today.

Again, the rhyming pattern is always

A
B
B
A
A
C
C
D
D
C

There are even songs created of multiple Espinela Poems united.

In Spain these poems were often sung or spoken, with the topics being philosophical, religious, lyrical, political, and even humorous with the humor being satire in nature noting the weakness or foolish act of the recipient. Often a challenge would be made by the decimero, the person who read aloud the anonymously written poem, to the recipient who is to respond in turn. This would start a duel of poetry, and possibly creating an interesting song of responses and challenges.

It is up to you as to how you structure your Espinela, as there really is no set in stone structure, only the syllables and rhyming pattern.

Childish Heart. A poem in the Décima or Espinela style.

A new Poetry Challenge is coming and here is my example. The How To follows.

Childish Heart

It’s a beautiful world we’re on.
To choose a path of divisions.
Our most foolish decisions.
All chances for atonement blown?

Child-like laughs, in mischievous tone,
Remind me of more hopeful days.
Dreams possible through class essays.
Believing not in might but can.
Not knowing us and them but man.
Now’s time to turn to younger ways?

 

10 lines with each having 8 syllables.

Sometimes people divide the lines into two stanzas of four and six. A pause after the fourth which means a period or semicolon is warranted. Some divide in other ways depending on where they learned Espinela, but all are 10 lines and…

…8 syllables to each line with

a rhyming pattern of abba/accddc

Traditional themes of old have been philosophical, religious, lyrical, political, and satirical humor. But you can do whatever you like as the theme can be anything, but I may be setting themes or a couple of words as part of the challenge.

This form of poetry is known as an Espinela or décima poem of octameter (more or less eight syllables). The form is named after Vicente Gómez Martínez-Espinel (baptized December 28, 1550, Ronda, Málaga, Spain—died February 4, 1624, Madrid) an expelled university student who entered the army, was a rogue, and eventually was ordained into the priesthood. He was a contemporary of Cervantes., who is probably most known for writing Don Quixote. Espinel is alternately credited with creating the style or reviving it. Whichever it is, we have it today.

Again, the rhyming pattern is always

A
B
B
A
A
C
C
D
D
C

There are even songs created of multiple Espinela Poems united.

In Spain these poems were often sung or spoken, with the topics being philosophical, religious, lyrical, political, and even humorous with the humor being satire in nature noting the weakness or foolish act of the recipient. Often a challenge would be made by the decimero, the person who read aloud the anonymously written poem, to the recipient who is to respond in turn. This would start a duel of poetry, and possibly creating an interesting song of responses and challenges.

It is up to you as to how you structure your Espinela, as there really is no set in stone structure, only the syllables and rhyming pattern.

You need to cry…to breathe. Men, I’m talking about us…you women too.

To the artificial us, the expected supposed to be, and to humanity begging to shine through, I give you one piece of advice. Cry. I began this thread of idea to speak to the men of the world and their need to cry, in order for them to release all the pent up fears, angers, humiliations, and confusions, but the audience later broadens to be all inclusive.

Through this release through crying we, as men, might avoid the catastrophes we inevitably create for ourselves. Catastrophes created by fear of failure, anger and humiliation leading to obstinance and inflexibility. Confusion of not knowing what to do with all these feelings we’ve been told and ingrained with not to let show, let alone to allow exist inside of us. Again, the fear of that confusion because if we have these sensitive thoughts, feelings, and reactions then people might think we are more woman than man.

But, as I thought of how men in society should support man to cry, I thought also of how women should let us cry as well. Then I realized that society doesn’t allow women to cry freely without judgement either. Crying is seen as weak. Crying by a man is often thought of as showing their feminine side, as though having a feminine side is a bad thing.

This led me to the thought of why we still refer to behaviors as feminine or masculine.

I believe crying and laughter are the two most powerful healing and coping mechanisms every person has available to them, and it’s free to do either. No prescription necessary or diagnosis required.

Just as men are seen as weak for crying, so to are women. I believe that view along with that about men has led to many wrong decisions in the 20th and 21st centuries that caused great losses. This is not just an opinion I have about the U.S. but one for all countries around the world. Some even worse than America itself.

Many of us have or will experience a life altering trauma. We’re afraid to admit it, afraid to show we are scared or hurting or completely lost. A good first step is to let yourself cry. It works. I speak from experience.

So to humanity, I once again say…cry, and cry often. But also remember to laugh just as much. It’s all about balance in ones life to have a good and healthy life.

Cry like a man?
Cry like a human.
Cry like a babe calling for the need of telling the world it needs relief of something.

Wash away the poisons of loss
of grief
of fear
of anger
of the loneliness of being you.

Cry from no one listening
of no one noticing
you are no longer the you they know or you recognize.

Cry…so you can then breathe…and laugh once again.

Void of The Loneliest Soul.

The emptiness of the void is betrayed by a burning cold.

A cold burning for what it once had?

A cold burning for what is misses?

A cold burning for lack of a returning echo.

 

A returning echo begun by a screaming heart.

A screaming heart for fear of abandoning?

A screaming heart for long felt longing?

A screaming heart that begs for one whisper of hello.

 

One whisper of hello carried on the breeze of a crone’s joy.

A crone’s joy laughing in its innocence?

A crone’s joy reveling in its faintest smile?

A crone’s joy unknowing of its blind coldness.

 

Blind coldness spreading over land and sea without ending.

Without ending of a story that never was?

Without ending of a river of salt stained skin?

Without ending of a forever dream that was never meant to be dreamt.

 

To be dreamt in the quiet hours of the darkest moments.

Darkest moments hiding sadness?

Darkest moments hiding torment?

Darkest moments embracing with caring sorrow.

 

Caring sorrow befriends the loneliest soul

The loneliest soul hoping for too much?

The loneliest soul dreaming too much?

The loneliest soul  wanting the void to be empty and burning cold no longer.

 

The loneliest soul…

The loneliest soul…

The loneliest

soul.

 

© 2019 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.

Passionate Destiny.

The future is full

With passionate destiny

There are no dead dreams.

Passionate Destiny Haiku on Shooting Star image.

Please visit the other entries with links in the comments of the challenge post. They deserve the attention and admiration.

For my Weekly Haiku Challenge. Please join in and add to the family. If you haven’t written a Haiku before, click HERE and there is also a link on that “how to” post that links to instructions on other types of Haiku you might enjoy, such as a Haibun, which is great, because you write a paragraph about something, maybe a nice memory, then you write a Haiku that tells that story in three lines.

Life Giving.

Clear of all the clouds

The sun shines brightly on Earth

Giving life to all.

Life Giving Haiku on image of mountains with sunshine.

For my Weekly Haiku Challenge. Please join in and add to the family. If you haven’t written a Haiku before, click HERE and there is also a link on that “how to” post that links to instructions on other types of Haiku you might enjoy, such as a Haibun, which is great, because you write a paragraph about something, maybe a nice memory, then you write a Haiku that tells that story in three lines.

Empty Soul.

My soul is empty

This far from my hearts dreams,

My whole body weeps.

Empty Soul Haiku on B&W image.

For my Weekly Haiku Challenge. Please join in and add to the family. If you haven’t written a Haiku before, click HERE and there is also a link on that “how to” post that links to instructions on other types of Haiku you might enjoy, such as a Haibun, which is great, because you write a paragraph about something, maybe a nice memory, then you write a Haiku that tells that story in three lines.

Outlasting?

Man in pain beside poem on right.

Stuck in a rut with no way out.

Opening my mouth but you can’t hear me shout.

Locked here in this world alone with my doubt.

Directions to safety keeps telling me to reroute.

My positivity has been my fingertip of hope.

Lately I’ve been sounding more like a garbage eating billy goat.

I keep slipping and sliding up and down a well traveled slope.

My plans so sabotaged I feel on the verge of a Virginia Woolf note.

The love for life counted down till it came.

And all those blissful imaginings… went up in a flame.

The clock hit zero and that pain I’ve held back…my brain is lame.

My mind limps and stumbles with fatigue and shame.

To change the world takes so much of your light.

You pull yourself up but find you haven’t enough fight.

You claw at limbs to see the white light.

Try as you may you just don’t have the might.

I still hang on to one thin strand.

Feeling the whole time that I wait on grains of sand.

My heart burns and it aches with each weak demand.

When I last close my eyes I hope to be in a new land.

Now you know.

One of my favorites back when I knew how to write what I called lyrical poetry…or poetry of any kind at all.

Ronovan's avatarronovanwrites

Slippin’ into sideways single again, thinkin’ I know what’s the best thing for my friend.
Never seein’ I’m the one playin’ a fool, keep trippin’ into a funk deeper than a city cesspool.
Do you ever think you want your own time, oh but you keep missin’ when she’s out of your line?
Then you look into her eyes, her heart and you play it off like a chump, thinkin’ you’re so cool.

Love’s not a playground for the child or the immature clown painted on society’s scripted scene.
Expectations of your world can bring you down to your knees and shatter your deepest dreams.
Where do you go from here when all you know is the beaten down lovers lost melody hit machine?
Words rhymed and bought to break your heart and rip your pockets for every cent at the seams?

Fill your heart, feel the steam.
Let it…

View original post 314 more words

The joyful thaw.

Sometimes I cry, but not because I’m sad.

It’s because when I met you my heart was frozen.

You’re the one who warmed me through and through.

You brought this strange thing called love into my world.

And tears of joy, that come from the melting ice.

Saturday Share-Incomplete.

Everything you say

Everything you do

Is what’s missing from my life.

Atonement For A Nation

I look upon the face of our nation

The creases of strife and hatred etched as stone

I look in to the eyes of damnation

The years of a democracy perhaps overthrown

I look for the spirit of liberation

The pain of the hopeless is ours to atone

Atonement image.

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost- A video presentation.

“Most readers consider “The Road Not Taken” to be a paean to triumphant self-assertion (“I took the one less traveled by”), but the literal meaning of the poem’s own lines seems completely at odds with this interpretation. The poem’s speaker tells us he “shall be telling,” at some point in the future, of how he took the road less traveled by, yet he has already admitted that the two paths “equally lay / In leaves” and “the passing there / Had worn them really about the same.” So the road he will later call less traveled is actually the road equally traveled. The two roads are interchangeable.

According to this reading, then, the speaker will be claiming “ages and ages hence” that his decision made “all the difference” only because this is the kind of claim we make when we want to comfort or blame ourselves by assuming that our current position is the product of our own choices (as opposed to what was chosen for us or allotted to us by chance). The poem isn’t a salute to can-do individualism; it’s a commentary on the self-deception we practice when constructing the story of our own lives. “The Road Not Taken” may be, as the critic Frank Lentricchia memorably put it, “the best example in all of American poetry of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” But we could go further: It may be the best example in all of American culture of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” From the article The Most Misread Poem in America by David Orr in the Paris Review.

Bridge Poem by Kate Rushin.

The Bridge Poem about race and society by Kate Rushin read with the video image of Galloping Gertie. You can read about the making of the video and the project inspiring it, which is a short film by Oscar nominated documentary film maker Lucy Walker by clicking the following link. https://www.theatlantic.com/video/index/561125/bridge-poem-rushin/

Tomorrow.

I think about tomorrow,

More than today.

For, tomorrow,

Is where I plan to stay.

Tomorrow,

Is closer every day.

The Greatest Gift.

Imagination

Is the single greatest gift,

That you dare love me?

For this weeks Haiku Challenge of Dream and Dare.

Never Give Up

Life
Will
Never
Defeat me.
I’m
All
I’ll
Be needing.

Some
Like
to be
Conceding
But I’ll Never
Give up
No Never Give up.

Skies
Are
Blue
Up above.
My
Life
Fits
Me
Like a glove.

No
I
May
Never Know
Of
Love.
But I’ll Never
Give up
No Never Give up.

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@RonovanWrites

 © Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2016

Love Crutch

What cha playin’ at
Think you’re something worthy but your times up
Times up
Times up
So why don’t you just shut up.

Yeah, I’m talkin’ ’bout you
Holdin’ court like you somebody big and tough
Big ‘n Tough
Big ‘n Tough
You’re nothin’ but a chump.

Why do I keep sinkin’, over a stupid weak in,
my armor?
Do you think I’m
a charmer?

Some people like to lay down and say,
they’re prayin’.
But all they do is
keep payin’.

I don’t want a banker to be my heart taker.
Taker
Taker
Do be a faker.

I want a free thinker, shrinker, a love drinker.
Drinker
Drinker
A love strike sinker.

Why do I keep thinkin, about your ever blinkin’?
Your eyes keep sinkin’.
Borin’ holes into my dreamin’.
A home run knockin’ win.

I’m not one to tell much.
But I keep longing for your touch.
Baby I need you in a clutch.
You’re my love crutch.

Love Crutch Image


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My Way From Hell.

The winds fight through memories walls,
Shaking earth and the very foundation falls.
Never does the howling cry release,
The heart relentless to true belief.

Is it the craven mongrel’s hunger,
Seething inside and sounding thunder?
Beating the heart until aching pains,
Thrust through the chambers built for love’s gains.

Phantasms drift through sleeping minds,
Haunting desires of different kinds.
One less stumbling step to take,
Until it’s time for goodness sake.

Pathways higher than others may stand,
Wind blown free from dangerous sand.
Particles of grime to taint the dream,
Will never bring the pure of heart to scream.

Take your wallowed mess of grievous hate,
And keep it for your eternal soul mate.
I have found my way from hell,
Finding love out of my pained shell.


Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling on Amazon

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Revenge. A Poem by Captain Gabriel Wallace.

Gabriel Wallace poem by Ronovan Hester


Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling by PS Bartlett and Ronovan HesterRonovan Hester is an author, with his debut historical adventure novel Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling , which you can Pre-Order Now and is due out in February 14, 2016. He shares his life through his blog RonovanWrites.WordPress.com. His love of poetry, authors and community through his online world has led to the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as LitWorldInterviews.com.

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