WD Poetic Form Challenge: Cyrch A Chwta

It’s about time (maybe past time) for another WD Poetic Form Challenge: this time around writing the cyrch a chwta!

Find the rules for writing cyrch a chwtas here. It’s a Welsh form; so plenty of end rhymes and internal rhymes.

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 June 20, 2018.
  • Poets can enter as many cyrch a chwtas 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  • All poems should be previously unpublished.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@fwcommunity.com. Or just write a new cyrch a chwta. They’re fun to write; I promise.
  • I will only consider cyrch a chwtas 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!


Master Poetic Forms!

Learn how to write sestina, shadorma, haiku, monotetra, golden shovel, and more with The Writer’s Digest Guide to Poetic Forms, by Robert Lee Brewer.

This e-book covers more than 40 poetic forms and shares examples to illustrate how each form works. Discover a new universe of poetic possibilities and apply it to your poetry today!

Click to continue.


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.


Find more poetic posts here:

You might also like:

  • No Related Posts

159 thoughts on “WD Poetic Form Challenge: Cyrch A Chwta

  1. Haikutopia

    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

  2. Haikutopia

    Graduation Oration

    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

  3. Haikutopia

    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

  4. Asha1000


    I traveled to see great whales.
    I was told there’d be no hail;
    that I could have gin cocktails;
    or stay dry with ginger ale.
    Just steer clear of the handrails.
    Any storm, we will outsail.
    But none said I’d be sea stressed –
    stomach messed up, face drawn pale.

    No blue or grey whales I’d see,
    only bluegrey berg debris,
    old ice floating in the sea.
    No ospreys or chickadees
    flew sunsets in Gemini.
    I could drink no cold Chablis
    nor eat breast of roasted hen.
    Just, now and then, sip herb tea.

    – Lelawattee Manoo-Rahming

  5. Asha1000


    Beans, as round as donkey’s eyes,
    boys rub hot. Burns skin like lye.
    Eyes water but you don’t cry.
    You curse them, “Pigs in a sty!”
    and dash away like a fly –
    today is not when you die.
    It is slick on the wet track.
    You plan and stack up mud pies.

    – Lelawattee Manoo-Rahming

  6. Asha1000

    Heart Seeds of Change

    Some say the tide brought sea hearts
    that inspired Colon’s charts.
    With his three ships he departs.
    The New World becomes a mart.
    Riches fill the royal carts.
    His crew are cruel upstarts
    who decimate Tainos.
    Then Latinos seed new art.

    – Lelawattee Manoo-Rahming

  7. Asha1000

    My Nana in Tijuana

    I went to visit Nana
    and her pet bullfrog Rana
    at her home in Tijuana.
    She fed me a banana
    while she puffed marijuana.
    I asked her, “Do you wanna
    taste ah mah sapodillies?”
    She said, “Lillies? They’re cannas!”

    – Lelawattee Manoo-Rahming

  8. Tracy Davidson


    My aunties like to natter.
    They think the pitter-patter
    of feet and childish chatter
    will make my sad life matter.
    Sad? Happy? I’m the latter,
    so nosey aunts can scatter.
    I’m living the carefree dream
    a baby’s scream would shatter.

  9. PressOn


    Sometimes a day in the fall
    can be as cold as a ball
    of ice, as damp as a wall
    of rain, as odd as the call
    of a loon before a squall.
    But still, it holds me in thrall:
    the sight of colors shouting
    makes an outing worth it all.

    — William Preston

  10. Jane Shlensky


    They explained they’d had a fight.
    She said he said he was right.
    He said she said he’s not bright.
    She replied he’s just uptight
    to think she thinks ill for spite.
    He shrugs; now she’s being trite.
    Doggedly, he hones his bark,
    forgetting marks from her bite.

  11. Jane Shlensky


    Many things we can’t restrain:
    bird migrations, sudden rain,
    virus morphing to new strain,
    constancy of chronic pain,
    water rising on flood plain,
    moonlight’s timely wax and wane—
    kindly thoughts that flash and sing
    like early spring keep us sane.

  12. Jane Shlensky

    Reading the Seasons

    Could I, would I, get my fill
    of twilight’s lone whip-poor-will,
    waterfall’s tall drop and spill,
    children splashing in creek’s chill,
    hummingbird’s long sipping bill,
    autumn leaves layered downhill…?
    Winter’s frost on window panes
    still explains what nothing will.

  13. Jane Shlensky

    Monday Morning Comparisons

    Mornings aboard the ferry,
    the crowd is in a hurry
    for work and school, a flurry
    of action, fast and blurry.
    Animals, finned or furry,
    don’t rush so much—they’re merry.
    As they while away their day,
    they’d say rest’s salutary.

  14. JayGee2711


    You’re home now, I hear your keys
    rattling at the door, the breeze
    follows you in, the first freeze
    of winter is near. Soon these
    days will fade to memories,
    tucked away like honeybees
    ’til spring frees us again to
    dream beneath the lemon trees.

    Julie Germain

  15. Karen

    Flirty Birds

    Two doves sitting in a tree
    one grooms the other I see.
    Tail feathers bob the birdie
    twerk, or some such dance it seems.
    Mating ritual is key.
    Swoosh! Blue Jay can’t let it be
    he dive bombs the two love birds.
    Jay has the last words, “my tree”.

    by Karen Wilson

  16. Jane Shlensky

    Dance Recital

    Tiny tappers in a row,
    grilled and frilled, faces aglow,
    parents’ phones record each mo,
    music marks the start of show,
    piano hits crescendo,
    clacking steps they ought to know
    change to spasms, tears, and fright,
    filmed delights they can’t outgrow.

  17. Jane Shlensky


    Some folks think the rising sun
    heralds hardships just begun.
    Some folks look for joy and fun,
    pleasures sleep stole, left undone.
    Some tell jokes, tell tales, and pun;
    others opt for loaded gun.
    Somehow living every day
    gives us a way to choose one.

  18. Jane Shlensky

    The Road to Home

    Dulcimers play at twilight,
    reminding him of the night
    he saw her by candlelight
    at her window. What a sight
    she was infused with delight,
    music surrounding her bright
    smile. She was herself a song
    he brought along for respite,

    for sweet notes harbor a heart
    traveling alone, apart
    from others. Music can start
    moving a spirit, impart
    longing, joy, and love, help chart
    new pathways, straight as a dart
    past windows where dulcimers
    play and murmur, “Stay, sweetheart.”

  19. Jane Shlensky


    Sunday evenings, we know,
    spark with fireflies’ lamps aglow.
    Mild breezes sigh soft and low,
    honeysuckle’s essence so
    fluid we sip its sweet flow
    like tea, watching children grow
    up in love with living stars
    held in quart jars, then let go.

  20. lsteadly

    Why Didn’t I?

    If only yesterday I
    braved the world without a sigh
    worried not where wishes die
    strung my hopes on clouds so high
    eagles caught them on the fly
    tossed them up to Gemini
    let me know how life’s not tame
    just a game to mystify

    Lisa L Stead

  21. Cam Yee

    These poems were inspired by a flying squirrel that invited itself to dinner last night. My mother and I worked together on the poems, helping each other when we got stuck working through this (very awkward!) form. Note: we treated “squirrel” and its rhymes as single syllable words.

    Unexpected Guest I

    One night brings a flying squirrel
    to my kitchen with a swirl,
    Fluffy tail in graceful curl.
    I watch webs of skin unfurl,
    As it leaps from knob to knurl,
    Fry pan I would like to hurl,
    As from pie it strews sweet crumbs.
    That’s what comes from living rural!

    – Joanna Cameron & Bisi Cameron

    Unexpected Guest II

    Lo! to my wondering eye,
    Appears a squirrel on the fly,
    Legs outstretched, he starts his glide,
    From the fridge top, way up high,
    Bold, he leaps, does death defy,
    Straight into my fresh-baked pie.
    “NO!” cried I to scoundrel squirrel
    “We had no quarrel!”, as I pry

    His squirrel paws from my dessert,
    “Leave off”, I say “or you’ll hurt”,
    I’m so angry, I’ll be curt,
    Rousing curses I will blurt
    “Don’t bat your eyes at me you flirt,
    Just because you’re cute and pert,
    Does not mean you get my pie,
    No!” say I, “Leave off, avert!”

    – Bisi Cameron & Joanna Cameron

  22. joealexshof

    The Dress

    I sat and stared at the dress
    Oh, what a horrible mess
The splotch is mine, I confess
    It’s my fingers that transgress
    All that they cannot possess
    But with feelings I repress
    Or perhaps I’m just clumsy
    Touching helps them convalesce

  23. Connie Biltz

    Rainbow Hair Extraordinaire

    Who wants to have purple hair?
    Blue? Green? Or pink, if you dare!
    Always trendy, never square.
    You realize, it is rare?
    Be forewarned, people will stare,
    but of course, you do not care.
    You ignore what people say,
    and display your trendy flair.

    by Connie Biltz

    author of Rainbow Chaser

  24. PressOn


    It seems that it is my fate
    to dream the same dreams too late:
    to succumb to lust and hate
    when love is my desired state;
    to hurry, and meet checkmate
    when wisdom urges to wait.
    Things are never as they seem
    but the dreams will not abate.

    — William Preston

  25. Darlene Franklin

    WHAT AM I?

    What am I?
    Start with plants from the marshes,
    But sold at stores in batches
    Used in Thanksgiving choices—
    Yams and jello cause comas—
    ‘Round fire on a branch blazes.
    Crackers, candy, who wants s’more?
    I’ll take four for lunches

  26. MET

    Thoughts While Waiting for Test Results

    Doctor office smells strike me
    Desire to go climb a tree
    Peaceful thoughts of being free
    My idea- hide or flee
    Beyond the grassy spring lea,
    But four blood vials from me
    Remind me the threat is here.
    I wait to hear the decree.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    June 8, 2018


  27. JRSimmang


    This is the Land of the Free,
    Home of the Brave, Cherokee
    Sioux, Choctaw, and Apache,
    Father, Mother, enlistee,
    immigrant, emigrant, he
    and she. Who the heroes be
    we are not ever aware.
    This is America, see?

    -JR Simmang

  28. JRSimmang


    It’s daybreak. Dawn’ll soon strike
    and this man who’s still childlike
    in wonder loads up his bike
    with the things you’d see a tyke
    fold up in his blanket, hike
    into the front lawn, tent spike
    and prop up, and spend his day
    far away from the turnpike.

    -JR Simmang

  29. tunesmiff

    G. Smith
    All I need are some palm trees,
    blue skies and a balmy breeze,
    sun shining down on calm seas,
    hammock hung in the mid-Keys.
    Take a lime, give it a squeeze,
    Love living this life of ease.
    Of course, it’s all beside you.
    Is that too much to ask? Please?

    (Actually, this may become a chorus to a song…)

  30. JRSimmang


    Out on our porch, let us find
    that the words we share might bind-
    our hands and feet are designed
    to grasp and embrace in kind.
    But what of the house behind?
    This door’s always open. Mind
    only the threshold, and come
    sit with me. Let us unwind.

    -JR Simmang

      1. JRSimmang

        Thanks, Bill. I realize just now that I don’t have the echoed rhyme in line 8. Here’s an edit:

        Out on our porch, let us find
        that the words we share might bind-
        our hands and feet are designed
        to grasp and embrace in kind.
        But what of the house behind?
        This door’s always open. Mind
        only the threshold, and come.
        Where’re you from? Let’s unwind.

        -JR Simmang

  31. JRSimmang


    How many times had the brink
    been laid in stone, not in ink?
    Dear giants weep while you sink
    into the black brackish drink.
    Old gods, have you gone extinct,
    or do you live where we think
    our eyes cannot see? What’s left,
    now bereft of ancient link?

    -JR Simmang

  32. JRSimmang


    Draig dw I, and by and by
    I had fallen from the sky.
    Was it my wings’ blood run dry?
    Was it I soared much too high?
    I hesitate, though, to cry,
    for all things finally die.
    Adventurer, I’m no more.
    Of this I’m sure, draig dw I.

    -JR Simmang

  33. tunesmiff

    G. Smith
    Unbidden, the feelings stir,
    Like a barely heard whisper,
    Or a fleeting glimpse – a blur.
    Lines on a scrap of paper:
    “Life’s but a flick’ring taper,
    ‘Tis nothing but a vapor,”
    Scribbling, she must confess,
    Alas, the words escape her.

  34. grcran

    closely related

    i thought you were dead he said
    i replied give me some cred
    and he did then hid his head
    until the dread felt well-fed
    coulda faced it but he fled
    coulda slowed down but he sped
    spoke with reason but no heart
    failed to take part. bled instead

    so he stayed home as we wed
    twining our strings into thread
    drinking wine and breaking bread
    adventurous intrepid
    called him on the infrared
    joined us joyous strong deep tread
    walked together thin and thick
    to the quick, without bloodshed

    by gpr crane

  35. AsWritten

    WHAT’S AT STAKE by Ken Bentz

    When you give more than you take,
    life seems unfair. You’re awake,
    yet the images are fake:
    the smiles you left by the lake;
    and the love you had, half-baked.
    The future is not at stake,
    but you hope your plans endure
    to guide the future you make.

  36. PressOn


    No matter where streams may wend,
    discovery limns each bend:
    perhaps a thrush will ascend
    from a glade that trees subtend;
    perhaps you will glimpse a friend
    or a pool where souls can mend.
    Sometimes a turn lacks allure,
    but the journey’s its own end.

    — William Preston

  37. Kateland

    Syllabus of Prayers June 4 2018

    Ever’ heart holds at its home
    Words of an eternal tome –
    Secret, lives are laid to bare,
    From the shelves of heaven, so
    Taken with eternal care –
    The sighs from within once roamed –
    Upon the ear of God- heard,
    And stills the fear of life, ‘lone.


    Kateland Smith

  38. k weber


    Cellophane. A smudge removed.
    The cloudless blue day. Beloved
    diamonds. Clean glasses. How grooved
    wax sounded without dust; moved
    and swerved that turntable. Proved
    theorems understood. Loved
    morning’s translucent pond. No
    worries, go get pre-approved!

  39. tunesmiff

    G. Smith
    Working for nickels and dimes,
    Like beggars, or street corner mimes;
    Not major, just petty, crimes.
    Who sees the sun as it climbs?
    Or hears the clock when it chimes?
    Who knows our rhythms and rhymes?
    He Who was nail’d to the wood;
    That’s the good news for bad times.

  40. Karen

    A blessing is a good friend.
    Relationships we must tend
    broken fences we should mend.
    There is give and take we bend.
    Some never borrow or lend
    some give the shirt off their backs
    what one lacks the other sends.

  41. RJ Clarken

    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.


  42. RJ Clarken

    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.


  43. RJ Clarken

    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.



This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.