Wow! So it’s been almost two months since the last form I’ve covered. So let’s jump right into today’s form: cyrch a chwta!
Cyrch A Chwta Poems
As you might guess from the name, cyrch a chwta is a Welsh poetic form. And like many Welsh forms, this poem involves both end rhymes and internal (or cross) rhymes. Here are the guidelines:
- Octave stanza (8-line stanza)
- 7 syllables per line
- Lines 1-6 and 8 end rhyme together
- Line 7 cross rhymes with line 8 (internally) on either syllable 3, 4, or 5
Note: The “a” rhyme appears at least 7 times per stanza, so it should be a strong one with plenty of rhyming options.
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Here’s my attempt at a Cyrch A Chwta Poem:
Viral Videos, by Robert Lee Brewer
We shared popcorn from a bowl
watching people swallowed whole
by enterprising sinkholes–
the earth transformed into trolls
claiming some forgotten toll
performed by a giant mole
or perhaps an ancient snake
that can never break its role.
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Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.
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Graduation
Another school year winds down
Soon to march with cap and gown
Party streamers around town
Glad to see how kids have grown
Seeds of learning have been sown
Tassels replace paper crown
Hugging friends, a happy sob
Start a job or college bound
by Sari Grandstaff
Delightful Dandelions
Floating dandelion seeds
Much maligned as noxious weeds
But children they take no heed
As they blow, their wishes freed
With abandon and Godspeed
The springtime wind takes the lead
In scattering the white fluff
Soon enough, to grow and breed.
by Sari Grandstaff
Childhood Memories Redux
The smell of a book excites.
Under covers, my flashlight
I’d hold in my hands most nights.
A child asserting her rights:
imagination takes flight:
fairies and kings and some knights.
Still get a sweet little thrill
still. Makes my heart soar to great heights.
###
A Fine Mess
Her hair was all tangles, knots.
3 broken combs. That so rots.
A mess (in everyone’s thoughts!)
And even fine brushes? Naughts.
We’ve named her mane ‘Juggernauts’.
Looks likes it’s zapped. Kilowatts,
like a zillion, struck each strand.
Hair run amok, takes potshots.
###
At the Museum
That painting gave quite a start
but it wasn’t just the art.
It struck a chord in my heart.
Suddenly, I fell apart.
Brushstrokes were both bold and smart.
Couldn’t look away or part
company. It held such sway.
Judgment day? No counterpart.
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Guilty Verdict
by Lorraine Caramanna
Trap snaps on little mouse head,
shovel wacks sure it is dead.
How that mouse wishes he tread
in another place! Instead,
blood stains concrete floor bright red.
Murder conviction, I dread
jail for a self-defense crime,
guilty this time in my shed.
I was in love, but forgot
To find some place for my thoughts
To keep them safe when we fought
But I failed, and now they’re caught
You know my dreams yet cannot
Respect them just as you ought
Oh! I loved so foolishly
You tricked me; I loved for naught
I’ve walked miles both east and west
Looking for a moment’s rest
To ease the pain in my chest
That comes from being grief’s guest
My friends, they think that I jest,
Either that, or I’m obsessed,
But, ardently, I loved you
And now we’re through, I protest
Mood Booster
by Eileen Sateriale
Children went outside to play
on the leading day of May.
Clouds with not one speck of gray,
singing from oak trees, blue jays.
Young boys engaged in horseplay.
Girls picked colorful bouquets.
The sunshine so very bright;
positive light; this May Day.
Inspiration Sought
by Sari Grandstaff
There are ancient pleasure domes,
Odes and sonnets, epic tomes,
Mariners who sail and roam
Odysseus far from home
Dover beach’s frothy foam
Treasure hunting shipwrecks combed
Searching I hope not for naught
For a thought to spur my poem
VERY EARLY SATURDAY
This most quiet time of day
before commerce has its say
just the crows at corvid play
over pavement empty, gray
where once was meadow-gay –
but I didn’t come to stay.
There’s no traffic near or far
so my car has right-of-way.
A BROKEN VASE
Kitty-sphinx with half-closed eye
watches puppy on the sly.
That Chinese vase – by and by
mistress just might wonder why
and who’s to blame. Cat’s don’t lie.
Purr affirms “it was not I.”
Don’t ask Kitty, she won’t heed.
Cats don’t need an alibi.
Temptation
Sprint along tracks on blurred feet;
crawl sideways through sand and peat;
dive deep within folds and pleats:
temptation to lie is sweet.
In the sea, all rivers meet,
eventually. We eat
words as bitter as coffee
and pay fees for swindler’s wheat.
– Lelawattee Manoo-Rahming
SPRING FANCY
A country outing. Sky’s cloak
was blue with a yellow yolk –
don’t say heaven’s shell is broke.
Two in love, a gentle yoke
of tangled grass, a green baroque.
He’d pluck a bloom – till she spoke.
Don’t touch, be still and listen:
it’s just glisten – poison oak!
WINGS
Nest built in a tree up high,
breeze sings bluebird rockabye.
Birdlings bloom in summer’s eye
till the leaves begin to sigh:
“ah but the neighbor cat is sly
and would like some bluebird pie.”
From a limb the kitty swings,
baby birdlings learn to fly.
Sweet and beautifully penned with interest and no forced rhymes.
I enjoyed reading this.
88 + 72
Carrot, balloon, an old shoe –
carrot our puppy would chew –
balloon popped out of the blue
where we walked in woods, we two –
old shoe with its sole worn through
from long hikes on rock, in dew.
All those trails we’ve left behind –
you remind, memories once new.
The Wise Man?
He said life is not a race,
just take it at your own pace,
there’s no loss of pride or face
in settling for second place.
Ambitious sorts always chase,
always risk a fall from grace.
Happy, those who fit the norm,
life’s boring but warm embrace.
Package Deal
Manufacturers destroy
simple gifts meant for a boy
or girl, by deflating joy –
they make packing to annoy.
Tamper-, theft- proof, that’s their ploy –
It’s frustrating! (I’m not coy.)
Extrication: cut, pull, shake –
I hope I don’t break the toy.
[Hmm,I just realized i used almost the same exact line 7-8 rhyme as Robert.]
Carefree Childhood by Eileen Sateriale
Children went outside to play
On a beautiful spring day
Clouds with not one speck of gray
Singing from branches, blue jays
The boys engaged in horseplay
Girls picked colorful bouquets
The sunshine so very bright
All loved the light of May Day.
SOMETIMES IT’S NOT
If it waddles front and back,
and it has a certain knack
of letting its jaw hang slack
when babbling yikkety-yak,
you’re likely to get some flak
if a wide smile starts to crack.
What’d be the best of luck
than a duck that doesn’t quack?
-JR Simmang
BEWARE THE CYRCH A CHWTA
This form could mean much trouble,
like skating on a bubble,
with rhyming more than double
and lines brief as a nubble;
imagine raking rubble
or shaving iron stubble
or hitters throwing a fit
when trying to hit Hubbell.
Good one!
Love it, William!