#anapaest

[distracteddaintydemon]

Yet

Here comes a new beautiful day. I'm already all up and I'm not yet in pain.

[pangur-and-grim]

I'm the opposite of a free-verse person. I love finding formats so complex that their instructions look like summoning circles. it is FUN!! I am PLAYING!!

[mezmerspoems]

The hot sugar in me will persist,

And the reason our black clothes exist,

Made-up hearts taste like art, this I know

Left to chance, take a glance, be it slow

Our dark fabrics do mingle like mist

We must cover up well so we hide,

Sneak a blush to the other in stride,

This is why I don’t want them to see

How the black covers up you in me

In the sweetness of loving I cried,

In this moment of dusk that we kissed

[enjoymorestuff]

SHOOT up the CLUB with this NERF gun of CUM.

Good rhythms in that.

"I"m gonna shoot up the club with this fuckin' nerf gun of cum I have"

"Hold on, Aabria, just say that one more time."

"No I absolutely will not."

"Let me just get that one more time. I'm gonna shoot up this club with WHAT?"

"Nerf... gun...?"

"Of cum??"

"Yeah... 👉👈"

[shiftingsemiosis]

Daybreak in November

My desk is covered with ‘shoulds’ and some overflow to the floor. Morning finds me regretting my weight gain in the dark. I want to avoid any stretching and I’ve used up all my ‘feels’. Now my watch is demanding I answer all my texts. The thermostat has left and the microwave has coughed. I’m out of toilet paper and the world keeps spinning on.

[with-my-murder-flute]

Poetry buffs: What would we call "if my heart had a dick, you would kick it"? Anapaestic trimeter?

[poem-of-the-week-challenge]

MAYke Your Own Rules May!

Come join our weekly poetry form challenge on this discord server! The event running right now is MAYke Your Own Rules May!

AKA: For the month of May, you create and submit the poetry forms (the "rules") you want us to create to, in ⁠the "#mayke-your-own-rules-forms" channel of the discord server! Pick and choose from the "toolbox" we have explored in the past 16 forms (masterlist here, for all of you who want to play catch-up), and anything else you can think of.

(This kind of poetry is also known as nonce poetry... but since "nonce" can also have… unpleasant associations (and I didn't want to wait til November), I chose to MAYke it May lol 😄 )

I'm curious what forms you come up with, how you're going to name them, and what you create for them!

And, as always, feel free to leave questions in ⁠the "#poetry-discussions" channel of the server or as asks on this blog!

Have fun!

Your mod,

Serena (@serenaew)

Thank you @hp-poetry-fest for the promo! Please please give this fest some love!

Below you'll find a (by no means exhaustive) list of rules/rules categories:

Let yourself be inspired by the past rule types explored in this challenge:

Poem length

Number of syllables or stressed syllables per line

Number of lines per stanza

Number of stanzas

combining multiple poems

Word Puzzles

Punctuation

Word order

Repetition

Spelling

"Symmetry"

Meter

Stressed vs. unstressed syllables

Iamb/trochee/anapaest/dactylus/spondee/...

Rhyme

Consonants in rhymes?

Internal rhymes

Multi-syllable rhymes

Sound

Imagery

Shape

but also aspects not explicitly discussed such as:

POV (re: Q&A poem forms?)

Tone

Emotions (re: elegy vs. ode)

Hidden messages

...

Feel free to play, and please also tell me if I've forgotten anything important because I'm sure I have!

[stastrodome]

Ezra Pound’s “The River-Merchant’s Wife: A Letter” condensed and in anapaestic tetrameter.

As a kid I was sad and I moped like a bum All that pulling on flowers and playing with plums So I put all my sorrow in love for a girl Who would leave me to cry where the eddies did swirl

[flynnspeaks]

For those who don't know, the reason why it's "right" arm is twofold: one, it's a play on words referring both to the dominant arm and to the sense of righteousness; and two it makes the line iambic pentameter--at LAST my RIGHT arm IS comPLETE aGAIN. Loosing "right" turns the clean iamb into an anapaest which isn't bad necessarily but loses some of the metrical strength of the original.

Personally I'm still biased towards "my arm" because I grew up on the OBC and that's how it is there, but I at least respect the reasonings why the line was written that way in the first place.

Okay let's settle this

[jurisffiction]

had an idea and spent a handful of evenings trying to match Auden’s First Things First in form and fill. weird the things you notice: there’s a lot of anapaests I just couldn’t keep up with!!! or maybe i could if i kept trying but if i give up and call it done i get to stop thinking about it. that’s how it works

Twenty Down

Lately, in the absence of having something of you to hold, (In traditional sense, arms unweighed in the summer light —Yet even in memory, mind scratching at blank cliffs) I had set to work in attempting to dream you; in hope Half-reliant on the unknowns of a bicameral mind, I could conjure some comfort from richer material.

Nights past, I would glimpse a roll call of faces, and yet Whole days filled with the travelled echoes of your presence Seemed, when left on their own, not enough to reanimate you. So once woken, I’d lay in the arms of my own warmth, And ignore a world enjoying itself outside To unscramble the faded hours into more promising tries.

Each midday, with fog cleared over mountains under sun Same as the haze inside gone under pressuring work, I could come to question this exercise in self-confusion. Why try with such purpose to muddy shallow waters? Encouraging signal-reading from self-generated noise Eyes squeezed shut for a trust fall with pareidolia.

Once given up, the motivating flame remained, And one garbled, jukebox night you appeared, Solid still, with nothing of me, or imagined: Your face, an old photo—and ghostly besides, Impossible to grasp, or mistake—looking out From an open window to a familiar street.

At instinct, I led down the row of high-set houses, Remarking how nothing to see could still look right, And together, counted twenty doors between your arrival To the home of my childhood where I slowed to a stop— As many doors as years I’d shown myself you’d been buried: Back here with macadamia and lorikeets.

[victorianbelovedanimals]

Top, PRB: The Wombat, Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1869).

Jane Morris leading the Wombat, from an album of 60 caricature drawings; WL to front. 1869 Pen and brown ink, over graphite. © The Trustees of the British Museum

Introduction:

Dante Gabriel Rossetti wrote this short poetic postscript on 10th September 1869 in anticipation of his wombat’s arrival at his villa. The painter owned his own private menagerie on 16, Cheyne Walk in Chelsea, London, where he collected diverse exotic animals and let them roam free in his garden. He had purchased the marsupial for £8 from Jamrach’s, a shop located in the East End where one could buy and sell all sorts of animals (including elephants, alligators and tigers...) As Rossetti had retired to Penkill Castle in Scotland because of his ‘insomnia and failure of eyesight’, his studio assistant, Harry Dunn, picked up the wombat and brought it to Rossetti’s villa. The latter sent some sketches of the animal to Rossetti who, inspired by the marsupial, wrote this ‘Ode to a wombat’. Rossetti returned to London and first met his wombat, who he decided to name ‘Top’, on 20th September 1869. The marsupial was often present at the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood’s debates and discussions as Rossetti allowed him to sleep in the middle of the dinner table, surrounded with Edward Burne-Jones, William Morris, Algernon Swinburne and others…

Poem History:

Dante Gabriel Rossetti composed this short poem and sent it to his sister, Maria Francesca Rossetti on 10th September 1869 from Penkill Castle, Scotland. He also sent the poem to Jane Morris on the following day.

Description:

Title: The Wombat/ Parted Love!

Date: 10th September 1869

Rhyme: aaaa

Meter: anapaestic tetrameter

Genre: poetic postscript

The Wombat/Parted Love!

Oh! how the family affections combat Within this heart; and each hour flings a bomb at My burning soul; neither from owl nor from bat[1] Can peace be gained, until I clasp my Wombat![2]

[1] In his memoirs, William Michael Rossetti wrote a detailed description of  his brother’s private menagerie at 16, Cheyne Walk: ‘There were a Pomeranian puppy named Punch, a grand Irish deerhound named Wolf, a barn-owl named Jessie, another owl named Bobby […] rabbits, dormice, hedgehogs, two successive wombats, a Canadian marmot or woodchuck, an ordinary marmot, armadilloes, kangaroos, wallabies, a deer, a white mouse with her brood, a racoon, squirrels, a mole, peacocks, wood-owls, Virginian owls, Chinese horned owls, a jackdaw, laughing jackasses (Australian kingfishers), undulated grass-parrakeets, a talking grey parrot, a raven, chameleons, green lizards, and Japanese salamanders.’

[2] Even though Rossetti owned several exotic animals, he had a particular fascination for wombats. The Rossettis were frequent visitors of the Zoological Society’s Gardens in Regent’s Park. John Simons argues that the Regent’s Park Zoo welcomed its first wombat on 26th October 1830. Dante, William, Christina and Maria were most likely fond of the small marsupials as children. As an adult, Dante remained a regular visitor of the gardens and often met other members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood by the ‘Wombat’s Lair’.

Bibliography

Rossetti, William Michael, Dante Gabriel Rossetti: His Family-Letters with a Memoir (Volume One) (n.p.: Ellis, 1895).

------- Rossetti Papers 1862-1870 (London: Sands, 1903).

Simons, John, Rossetti’s Wombat: Pre-Raphaelites and Australian Animals in Victorian London (n.p.: Middlesex University Press, 2008).

[adjoint-law]

Trochee trochee trochee trochee // Oaky croaky super trochee // Trochee trochee trochee trochees stressing here if aught. 𝄽

XKCD eight five six has // tetrametric trochee groupings // Not a dactyl; just the trochees, sometimes they're cut short. 𝄽

Trochees: full of politics? 𝄾 // Trochees 'til the rhythm clicks 𝄾 // Trochees til it don't seem wise; 𝄾 // Spon--dee, emphasise! 𝄾

Trochees sometimes need to rhyme in // (on-beat, off-beat:) compound time. 𝄾 // Anapaest! 𝄾 What a jest! 𝄾 British politician sex!?

[modmad]

i just read the princess and the jester and now all my thoughts are in anapaestic tetrameter

is *that* what the fuck I wrote it in I always did wonder

[eremia]

anapaestic tetrameter catalectic

is my enemy

[novel-collage-blog]

Стиль неустойчив: зажги транстекстуальность!

postpostdada

The style is unstable: light transtextuality!

Творческий драматизм, сублимиpуя ядpом кометы, брызгает шведским анапестом широкими мелодическими скачками. Познавательная сфера чувственного благоухает педантизмом – с севера вверх и с востока на лево. Подобный контраст трансформируется в художественный аутизм,  ставя под сомнение возможность разных подходов к безобразному художника.

Creative drama, sublimating the comet's core, splashes the Swedish anapaest with wide melodic leaps. The cognitive sphere of sensual fragrant pedantism - from the north upwards and from east to left. Such a contrast is transformed into artistic autism, calling into question the possibility of different approaches to the ugly artist.

[yourhangrydoctor]

Hashiras: Pressed

Tanjiro: Stressed

Inosuke: Obsessed (WITH FIGHTS MAHAGA. FIGHT ME!!)

Genya: Pest

Kanao: impressed

Nezuko: Hmhm! (refreshed!)

Zenitsu: Dick test.

Hashiras:

Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Nezuko:

Zenitsu: What, I just wanted to join.

Everyone: .........

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

--One piece version--

Past and future Enemies: Pressed

Luffy: digest

Robin: protest

Franky: Invest

Brook: possessed

Nami: manifest

Law: depressed

Zoro: headrest

Chopper: suggest

Usopp: Stressed

Kid and Killer: House arrest

Frenemies: disinfest

Kuzan: eternal rest

Perona: self-interest

Mihawk: alcahest

Shanks: unstressed

Boa: firecrest

Uta: slugfest

Luffy's Family: anapaest

The dead loved ones of the straw hats: professed

Sanji: Bitches got it best

Everyone: ..............