Poetry Forum

Write a poem about A Secret Place.

Ok.

I liked the Old - Cinquain - Challenge! I'm sorry it didn't seem to take off.

This one sounds good too, though.

The Cinquain Challenge is still on. I am going to appear in that thread again. Still writing cinquains.

Antcliff wrote:The Cinquain Challenge is still on. I am going to appear in that thread again. Still writing cinquains.

Great. I'll look at it again too. They are a lovely form.

Will have a go at this I think.

Blackwork: Forbidden Zone

This is the land of the ward lock
and the scarecrow. This is dawn
on the ninth day of creation,
dusk in the ninth circle of hell.
This is the dark and echoing edge
of a town whose name is forgotten.
This is the path through the forest;
mark well how straight it goes.
This is what's left of the city
that lost its way en route
from one millennium to the next.
This is the bridge that leads
across the abyss, generously
graffitied in gothick cypher.
Is this what the real life looks like?
Please tell me it is. Please tell me it isn't.

*

Huzzah, Jane! A secret place poem.


Me

That's a cracker Jane.

Kev

Seth, Kev, thanks!

Is nobody else going to give a secret place a try?

Jane

Have been struggling with this one Jane. But hope to have something soon.

Magpie Jane wrote:Is nobody else going to give a secret place a try?

Really must, Jane. Yours is terrific, by the way.

Cheers

David

Liked the ending of the poem especially, Jane. Indeed, don't we often have such ambivalent feelings about places, feeling both attracted and repelled?

Seth
p.s. yeh, I will be finding a secret place poem (although I must find the secret place first, which may take some time.)

Cinquain for the northdown hops
grown in the poly tunnel by Loch Tay


Trailed high,
[tab][/tab]reminiscent
of pine cones, though softer.
Light summering into white at
[tab][/tab]tip toe.

I really like this hop-cinq of yours, Seth!

Hops are such lovely critters. I've never seen them in poly tunnels, though; but I know they're fond of climbing trees, sometimes making tunnels, and secret caves too.

Jane

Thanks very much, Jane! Good photo.

I was inspired by the hops grown by my brother-in-law. He had a bad hand, so could not pick the hops he has grown for brewing. I had never really seen them before. I love them now.

Crypt Script

The church in Astatine Town has a white,
straight tower and two warped steeples
that look like roguish devil horns.

Lit by tiny gas torches, the crypt harbours
the relics of a bible salesman, a martyred
exterminator, and the sainted Rob Nosis.

The sexton receives anonymous complaints.

*

Magpie Jane wrote:Crypt Script

The church in Astatine Town has a white,
straight tower and two warped steeples
that look like roguish devil horns.

Lit by tiny gas torches, the crypt harbours
the relics of a bible salesman, a martyred
exterminator, and the sainted Rob Nosis.

The sexton receives anonymous complaints.

*

Rob Nosis? Any relation of Hyp Nosis?

Antcliff wrote:Rob Nosis? Any relation of Hyp Nosis?

Quite possibly, Seth.
Once upon a time there was a kind of cleverish pun involved in this, but right now it eludes me. P'raps I should try to reconstruct, deconstruct, or repurpose it. Heh. The faculty of memory is never what it used to be.

Jane

Horseman, pass by

Whenever the term security has been used,
send a comforting thought to the beings
that live under your floorboards.
(It could be yourself, next time around.)

Look for traces of dreamstuff, tiny shards
that flicker in the dawn. Bear in mind,
secret place means nothing like safety,
silence, or sanctuary; not even sleep.

At night, all and everything is on the move:
Angry folk carrying pitchforks and torches.
The solitary worm. The sexton beetle.
The cockchafer and its chubby grub.

*

Once upon a time there was a kind of cleverish pun involved in this, but right now it eludes me.

ha! Me too. What was I talking about?

Loved the poem. The last line is terrific.

‘Where is it?’, she demanded.
'I’ve hidden it from you.'
‘I know, where have you hidden it?’
'In a secret place, my secret place.'
She faltered, glints in her eyes,
‘I didn’t think we kept secrets.’
'You’re always testing me,' I said.
I removed some books from the shelf,
reaching in I grasped a small item.
I handed it to her.
She looked at the thing in her trembling hand,
then at me, smiling, reassured.
As the door closes behind her I look across the room.
Now i'm smiling, she’ll never know my secret place.

As the door closes behind her I look across the room.
Now i'm smiling, she’ll never know my secret place.

aha, a cunning plan, Boat.

A cunning plan well conveyed in the poem.

Should there be quotes extending around ln.7 (it still being speech)?

Me

Thanks for reply, Me.

I'm not sure how speech works in a poem. I think I remember seeing somewhere that only one person has quotes around their speech but I might be mistaken. Anyway for clarity I've added, 'I said', at the end of line seven as it is the man speaking and not his lady friend.

Regards.

Pat short for Patrick.

Concerning "Quiet Life" by Boat.
One to trigger the conscience! As someone who has been happily married for 56 years I would say the person who doesn't have a little secret or two must be a very rare person