WD Poetic Form Challenge: Clogyrnach

As of today, there’s still time to submit an entry for the diminishing verse challenge, but the window’s closing tomorrow night. So it’s time to get another challenge started up; this time for the clogyrnach.

Find the rules for writing clogyrnachs here. This Welsh form is fun to say, sure, but it’s also fun to write.

So start writing them and sharing here on the blog (this specific post) for a chance to be published in Writer’s Digest magazine–as part of the Poetic Asides column. (Note: You have to log in to the site to post comments/poems; creating an account is free.)

Here’s how the challenge works:

  • Challenge is free. No entry fee.
  • The winner (and sometimes a runner-up or two) will be featured in a future edition of Writer’s Digest magazine as part of the Poetic Asides column.
  • Deadline 11:59 p.m. (Atlanta, GA time) on March 15, 2017.
  • Poets can enter as many clogyrnachs as they wish. The more “work” you make for me the better, but remember: I’m judging on quality, not quantity.
  • All poems should be previously unpublished. If you have a specific question about your specific situation, just send me an e-mail at robert.brewer@fwmedia.com. Or just write new clogyrnach. They’re fun to write; I promise.
  • I will only consider clogyrnachs shared in the comments below. It gets too confusing for me to check other posts, go to other blogs, etc.
  • Speaking of posting, if this is your first time, your comment may not appear immediately. However, it should appear within a day (or 3–if shared on the weekend). So just hang tight, and it should appear eventually. If not, send me an e-mail at the address above.
  • Please include your name as you would like it to appear in print. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to use your user/screen name, which might be something like HaikuPrincess007 or MrLineBreaker. WD has a healthy circulation, so make it easy for me to get your byline correct.
  • Finally–and most importantly–be sure to have fun!

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Click to continue.

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Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community, which means he maintains this blog, edits a couple Market Books (Poet’s Market and Writer’s Market), writes a poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine, leads online education, speaks around the country on publishing and poetry, and a lot of other fun writing-related stuff. He’s also the author of the poetry collection Solving the World’s Problems.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.

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93 thoughts on “WD Poetic Form Challenge: Clogyrnach

  1. tunesmiff

    ROAD TRIP
    G. Smith
    ——–
    Thirty-one to Corsicana;
    Three hours more to Lou’siana.
    I can’t wait to greet,
    And sweep off her feet,
    My so sweet,
    Diana.

  2. PressOn

    THE OLD PROFESSOR

    His appearance was prosaic
    despite his facial mosaic
    birthed of emotions
    and gin-fed potions
    of notions romaic

    as he tried to teach us to see
    that classicisms need not be
    confined to the past
    but were meant to last
    past our vast pedantry.

    — William Preston

  3. PressOn

    BARBARA

    She rarely laughed or looked like much
    and she was rough as rocks and such,
    but she, through and through,
    did what none could do:
    my heart flew
    at her touch.

    — William Preston

  4. tunesmiff

    THE OLD GOLDEN’S GROWING GRAYER
    G. Smith
    ..…..…..…..
    The old golden’s growing grayer,
    And it’s just another layer;
    Things I see each day,
    Changes on the way,
    Need to say,
    A prayer.

    (Inspired by William “PressOn” Preston’s Clogyrnach, “THE OLD MAN PETS HIS OLD DOG”)

  5. tunesmiff

    THE SIXTY-FOUR THOUSAND DOLLAR QUESTION
    G. Smith
    *********
    She knows the man I wanna be,
    But sticks around in spite of me,
    In spite of my past,
    Her outlaw, outcast.
    Will it last?
    Guess we’ll see.

  6. PressOn

    THE OLD MAN PETS HIS OLD DOG

    The bow of age is drawing tight
    and poised to send our souls in flight;
    I, with halting breaths,
    proffer shibboleths
    as our deaths
    come to light.

    — William Preston

  7. Emily Bowles

    Not a bird/child in court

    Lavinia needs ad litem:
    phallic thrust/blade renders her dumb,
    and the nightingale
    sings but her wings flail.
    voices fail.
    bodies numb.

  8. tunesmiff

    UNDER THE SHADE TREE
    G. Smith
    ====•====
    All in, parts and profanity,
    Maybe a hundred and twenty,
    Skin off my knuckles,
    Satisfied chuckles,
    What buckles?
    Sanity.

  9. Karen

    Tiniest footprints in the snow,
    where did all the little birds go?
    Left behind their nests
    like cowboys head west
    time to rest
    where warmth flows.

    by: Karen Wilson

  10. Karen

    Winter Romance

    White swans having a tete-a-tete
    looks to me like their on a date
    I can’t help but stare
    two butts in the air
    Found a mate
    Someone cares

    by: Karen Wilson

  11. tunesmiff

    ACTIONS SPEAK
    G. Smith
    ====|====
    Love is a verb. Love is a choice.
    Love is a touch; a tone of voice.
    It’s a look; a task
    Without being asked.
    Me, unmasked.
    I rejoice.

      1. tunesmiff

        Thank you so very much~!

        I must admit that this form has inspired me to try it as a verse form in song, and a couple of these have started from faltering lyrics, which have found “direction” and may yet find choruses, meoldies, and chords… though I am pretty happy with most them as they stand…

  12. PressOn

    PREMONITION

    It is a dark, unstormy night
    with stars competing for the right
    to capture my eye
    and then, by and by,
    I espy
    a strange sight:

    a murder of crows in the sky,
    eclipsing the stars as they fly,
    and there, from their height,
    they loose subtle fright;
    a ghost flight
    trending nigh.

    — William Preston

    1. tunesmiff

      “…a dark UNstormy night…”

      Snoopy would be impressed ~!
      🙂

      The contrast with the “murder of crows,” “fright,” and “ghost flight” is subtle, given they’re in tune with a stormy one…

      Nicely done,

  13. tunesmiff

    NICE AND TRITE
    G. Smith
    ——/——
    Third time’s the charm, three strikes, you’re out;
    Three on a match; give us a shout!
    Lessons worth learning,
    Bridges worth burning,
    World turning,
    Without doubt.

  14. Nancy Posey

    Truce

    What is this anger all about?
    We face each other as we shout
    unwilling to hear,
    we turn a deaf ear:
    nothing’s clear
    but the doubt.

    What good can come of calling names
    and throwing fuel upon the flames
    without a desire
    to put out the fire?
    from the mire,
    only shame.

    How certain is our own belief
    if sharpened on another’s grief?
    First, let’s do no harm;
    let’s lay down our arms.
    Winning’s charm
    is so brief.

  15. Nurit Israeli

    ADVICE FROM MY FAVORITE TREE

    The storm will pass, stay put, don’t fight.
    Behind dark clouds, a sun streams light.
    Spread flowers, strew fruits,
    rely on your roots –
    in pursuit
    of what’s right.

    Sway softly, attempt not to fall.
    Extend shade and shelter to all.
    Delve deeper, then rise,
    branch up to the skies:
    It is wise
    to stand tall.

    ~ Nurit Israeli

  16. tunesmiff

    THAT CERTAIN SOMEONE WE ALL KNOW
    G. Smith
    =======
    Her smile will hide a million tears;
    Her laugh conceal a million fears;
    Then again her grins,
    Reveal certain sins –
    Might-have-beens –
    Conscience clear.

  17. PressOn

    GRANDMA AND GRANDPA

    Love shows its pose in little ways:
    a soft-edged smile; a lengthened gaze;
    and when it grows old
    yet stays, it’s extolled
    as old gold garners praise;

    and so it was in that old house,
    where love would pass from spouse to spouse,
    and still I can see
    in my memory
    what sundry can arouse.

    — William Preston

  18. Caryl

    Words For Sale, by Joslyn Chase

    If we purchased words from a store
    ev’ryone would be a lot more
    careful in their speech
    and sure not to preach
    as they each take the floor

    If we paid for each word we say
    We wouldn’t shell out for cliché
    We’d pick and we’d choose
    Ev’ry word we use
    And reduce throwaway

    Economy used in our talk
    Might not help eliminate schlock
    How could we afford
    So wondrous a word
    As we’ve heard, clogyrnach

  19. Caryl

    I Used To Be A Golfer, by Joslyn Chase

    My view of the twenty-first green
    reminds me I used to be keen
    I bought a home here
    to always be near
    seven years, still serene

    My golf bag is in the garage
    as if it were all a mirage
    it’s gathering dust
    and starting to rust
    now it’s just a hodgepodge

    The view from my window is nice
    but I no longer hook or slice
    I never have time
    or requisite dimes
    guess the clime will suffice

  20. tunesmiff

    LOW ANGLE IMAGE OF A WOMAN STEPPING OUT OF AN E-TYPE JAGUAR CONVERTIBLE SPORTS CAR, WEARING A LEATHER JACKET, A MINIDRESS, AND LACED COWHIDE BOOTS, JANUARY, 1969
    G. Smith
    =======
    I was ten and said, “Holy cow,”
    (about the car). I pictured how
    The wind blew her hair.
    Was hard not to stare;
    Wonder where
    she is now.
    —–
    (Title found as the caption to “a low angle image…”)

  21. tunesmiff

    VENUS, MARS AND THE CRESCENT MOON
    G. Smith
    ——=——
    Venus, Mars and the crescent Moon,
    Bid good night to the day too soon;
    Sunset; daylight dies,
    Dark blue, starless skies,
    Trick the eyes;
    After noon.

  22. taylor graham

    EVENING, RESERVOIR STREET

    This alley gold-mined into hills
    where spring sun gleams its last light, spills
    gold into twilight,
    periwinkle night.
    By mind’s sleight, gold-dust fills

    the dark stone hollows delved between
    wishing and getting. Living green
    overgrows silence
    to entwine each sense,
    immanence still unseen.

    And still, the sun flecks everything
    with dust – gold dust – till shadows fling
    ghost shapes in the dark,
    each a question-mark,
    a small spark glittering.

  23. Karen

    By: Karen Wilson
    Seedlings

    Many books are hidden in trees
    verse embedded in branch and leaves
    aching to reveal
    hidden secrets sealed
    what hearts feel sprouts from seeds

  24. AsWritten

    LAKE by Ken Bentz

    I threw a stone to ripple fate –
    make my mark, I guess. But I’d hate
    to think my small throw
    stopped your ripple. No,
    we can’t go the same way.

  25. AsWritten

    OUR LIFE AS A MOVING PICTURE by Ken Bentz

    Raindrops pierce the veil of midnight,
    and our dim foot-shadows re-write
    the paint-stripped walls as
    dark-projecting jazz.
    No world has such a sight.

  26. taylor graham

    LEAVING NO TRACE

    The trees keep secrets to themselves
    of ferns and nestlings, maybe elves,
    of twig and leaf-fall,
    and the thrush’s call;
    mossy hall, rocky shelves –

    while sleek as moonbeam or the doe’s
    elusive print through shadowed rows
    slips a silver car
    as some wayward star
    from a-far silent goes –

    and passes. Still the woodlands keep
    their hold and fastness of the deep.
    Each new fall, each spring
    as fledgling birds sing,
    voices ring waking sleep.

  27. Sasha A. Palmer

    I’ve just noticed that my first entry is almost an acrostic. I didn’t mean to write one: it was clogyrnach’s doing 🙂 He (it?) did all the acrostic work for me, I just had to change one initial letter. Here goes:

    Last night the western welkin shone
    In bridal glory, moonlight donned
    The pure white and red
    As Mars Venus wed;
    Night is dead —
    You are gone.

  28. Tracy Davidson

    The Husband

    Have pity on my weary bones,
    each movement brings more creaks and groans.
    And why my back plays
    up, neurons ablaze?
    My wife weighs
    twenty stones!

  29. tunesmiff

    TOO FAST FOR CONDITIONS
    G. Smith
    —–/—–
    Running down Sixteen in the rain,
    She’s texting on the phone again,
    And paying no mind,
    To lines or to signs;
    All we find
    Now is pain.

  30. PressOn

    THE MINUET OF JUNE

    I see how the blossoms embrace
    the bees as they flit place to place
    on the garden wall
    and harvest them all
    and enthrall with their grace,

    and I wonder, as I sit there,
    if another thing can compare
    with the spot of chance
    that led to this dance
    and romance through the air.

    — William Preston

  31. PressOn

    THE TRAGEDY OF THE CLOGYRNACH

    There are days when I’d like to pounce
    on form so irksome, ounce for ounce,
    but I try, despite
    a skittish Welsh sprite
    I can’t write
    or pronounce.

    — William Preston

  32. DMK

    Homeless shtick
    by Dawn Kvernenes

    David and Luis are vagabonds
    spreading love as they travel on
    looking for shelter
    all kinds of weather
    sun swelter

    camping under glorious stars
    blessed be…heavenly czars
    work for a daily wage
    freely giving sage
    story page
    not too far

    carved bamboo walking stick
    Halloween treat; not a trick
    gifts for the children
    welcoming the wren
    time to travel again;
    homeless shtick

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