The following Rondeau are the finished products of this months' challenge. Hardly show stopping, the process has none the less taught me a lot about this form of poetry and its complexties. I'm reasonably happy with #1 and #7, in terms of completion, the others I will lay to rest for a month or so to look at later with fresh eyes. Although I hadn't anticipated the degree of difficulty it has been a worthwhile exercise.
#1
Beyond these bluestone walls
Beyond these bluestone walls, they tell
Of men condemned to living hell
And those who walked toward the rope
To end their lives, bereft of hope
Priest's words lost to the tolling bell.
Unto these men, a fate befell;
From social change; a new artel
That meant not one would e'er elope
Beyond these bluestone walls.
For into each and every cell
The voyeurs came, and paid quite well
To peer and pry, to interlope
And place beneath a microscope
Poor wretches all, who once did dwell
Beyond these bluestone walls.
*
#2
Into the past
Into the past, I drift once more,
Moving through an enchanted door
To time gone by and familiar faces,
A mystic realm of magic places,
On that wondrous distant shore.
Familiar streets I re-explore,
Crooked lanes, the sun-kissed moor
Stepping lightly in open spaces
Following all the well loved traces
Into the past.
Yet waking now, it's as before
I floated down that corridor,
No friendly face, no warm embraces
Just the cold grey ash of fireplaces,
And I crave sleep take me evermore
Into the past.
*
#3
Dry eyed she lay
Dry eyed she lay, in her lonely bed
Tears of heartache left unshed
Shadows of fear holding sleep at bay
Since welfare came and took her away;
To a place of safety, they said.
Away from that other life she'd led
To live as a prisoner here, instead
Inside these walls, day after day
Dry eyed she lay.
Around these thoughts others sped
Of forgotten places, things unsaid
A place of love so far away
Where part of her would always stay
With this sweet dream inside her head,
Dry eyed she lay.
*
#4
As the steam rose
As the steam rose, over fingers bare
She thought how life could be unfair
Bonded to the ironing station,
This token of her expiation
Under sister's solemn glare.
How difficult to not despair
Knowing she could no longer bear
The searing pain of conflagration
As the steam rose.
She brushed aside a stand of hair
Put down her iron, as to prepare
And fight against her deprivation
With one almighty confrontation
As the steam rose.
*
#5
As the keyboard taps
As the keyboard taps, at rapid pace
Lines of thoughts join in the race
As words and images intertwine
And metaphors leap, line to line,
Each jockeying to find their place.
Nimble fingers lead the chase
To finely craft a work of grace
Rhythm and metric beat combine
As the keyboard taps
Letters form a tight embrace
As stanzas seek their rightful place
Every symbol and every sign
Stamp out their mark and, by design
Echoes of words leave their trace
As the keyboard taps.
*
#6
On open plains
On open plains, the suburbs grew
Replacing grass and kangaroo
With mapped out roads and city lights
All measured by theodolites
To introduce a new milieu.
Gone wallabies, bilbys too
Out with the old, in with the new
So few survivors left to view
A different vista on star filled nights
On open plains.
Is it possible they never knew
Of nature's loss that would ensue
When progress of unequal might
Did force this ecological flight
On open plains.
*
#7
As Leaves float down
As leaves float down, on gentled breeze
In Autumn dance beneath the trees
They dust the earth in shades of red,
Russet, gold, a wondrous spread;
A crimson sun on wooded lees.
These are the sprites of nature's ease
Who twist and twirl in merry tease
Then land upon an earthen bed,
As leaves float down.
The artist's brush paints as he sees
The bloodied ground a startling frieze
While poet's write in mournful dread
A metaphor of loves' tears shed
Yet seasons pass as each does please,
As leaves float down.
(c) Merlene Fawdry
