Rhupunt: Poetic Form

I’ll tell you what: These Welsh poetic forms are starting to grow on me. This time around, let’s look at the rhupunt!

Rhupunt Poems

The rhupunt has some variability to it, but also some rigid rules as well. I’ve had fun tinkering around with this Welsh form, and I hope you do too.

Here are the guidelines for the rhupunt:

  • The form can be broken down into lines or stanzas
  • Each line or stanza contains 3 to 5 sections
  • Each section has 4 syllables
  • All but the final section rhyme with each other
  • The final section of each line or stanza rhymes with the final section of the other lines or stanzas

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Here’s my attempt at a Rhupunt Poem:

I’m going to share the same rhupunt in both ways: The first broken up by stanzas; the second by lines.

She Said Hello, by Robert Lee Brewer

she said hello
in falling snow
outside the show
in december

& then she smiled
& drove me wild
& so beguiled
i remember

like she was sent
for that moment
to leave me spent
like an ember

that slowly died
as she good-byed
because my pride
would not answer

She Said Hello, by Robert Lee Brewer

She said, “Hello,” in falling snow outside the show in December,
and then, she smiled and drove me wild and so beguiled, I remember,
like she was sent for that moment to leave me spent like an ember
that slowly died as she good-byed, because my pride would not answer.

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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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11 thoughts on “Rhupunt: Poetic Form

  1. taylor graham

    MOUSE MURDER

    No more mice? that might be nice. We thought so, twice, but were we wrong?
    In pantry-land, rich contraband. Mouse sleight-of-hand – that thieving throng.
    You set the trap and took your nap. Then trigger-snap! Sweet mouse, so long…..
    And yet I’ve seen how shy and lean a mouse can keen its mourning song.

  2. Marie Elena

    Alzheimer’s Snare

    consumed with doubt
    she mills about
    fret snuffing out
    her morning prayer

    feeling betrayed
    she draws her shade
    but who will braid
    her silver hair

    doused inner light
    endless midnight
    in broad daylight
    repeat nightmare

    kin she can’t name
    in picture frames
    they’re all the same
    to her despair

    no overpass
    no underpass
    a deep crevasse
    that leads nowhere

    her mem’ries tossed
    her thoughts crisscrossed
    again she’s lost
    her ev’ning prayer

    © Marie Elena Good, 2017

  3. Tracy Davidson

    Non-Domestic Goddess

    I want to make
    our wedding cake
    but I can’t bake
    to save my life.

    My kitchen skills
    are full of spills,
    plus broken grills
    and burns are rife.

    My food from hell
    makes stomachs swell,
    emits a smell
    from here to Fife.

    To stop more squeals
    it’s ready meals
    and fast food deals
    for this house-wife.

  4. Tracy Davidson

    Wooing

    Women he woos
    with his tattoos
    and trendy shoes…
    I pass along.

    His muscles, tight,
    are quite a sight
    but I want Right,
    not Mister Wrong.

    He’s nice but dim,
    obsessed with gym,
    I’m just a whim
    that won’t last long.

    So still I seek
    a god or geek
    to kiss my cheek
    and sing my song.

  5. Bruce Niedt

    The Phonophobic’s Fourth

    Fourth of July,
    the screamers fly,
    the rockets high
    that burst with light.

    Those noisy jerks
    with fireworks –
    explosion lurks
    in this dark night.

    I don’t like noise
    like other boys,
    and shy from toys
    that could ignite.

    Bombs burst in air,
    and I don’t care
    to flinch or scare,
    but it’s my plight.

    I must admit
    when skies are lit
    I reckon it
    a pretty sight.

    If this bright show
    was silent though,
    I just might go
    and not take flight.

  6. Walter J Wojtanik

    THIS SONG REPEATS ON ME

    I heard this song.
    It’s not that long,
    the words were wrong.
    I re-wrote it.

    It’s hard to sing
    and yet it ling-
    ers, some sing-
    ers will quote it.

    It’s rather quaint
    and yet, it ain’t!
    It’s smooth like paint
    when you coat it!

    You know this song.
    Just hum along.
    The bass line’s strong,
    I’ll promote it!

    It’s in my head.
    Finnegan’s dead,
    but here instead
    I repeat it.

    My throat is sore.
    I’ll sing once more,
    for to the score
    I’m devoted.

  7. taylor graham

    ON BIG CUT ROAD

    I seek a clue to nothing new, gray rock, sky blue along the road.
    Sun is blinding, way is winding – it’s hard finding a mother-lode.
    It takes an age to turn one page of earth, to gauge its precious load.
    Since early dawn I’ll praise a fawn already gone – my simple ode.

  8. cassandrascurse

    To my unlamented ex:

    your cuts begin
    the ravaged skin
    is scarred again
    at your leisure

    a bit of bone
    snicked for your own
    the pain alone
    fuels your pleasure

    just know my dear
    when my knife’s near
    your newfound fear’s
    now my treasure

    then stillness comes
    save heart’s slowed drum
    I did succumb
    to blood’s sweet lure

    Too dark?

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