Yes Please Arthur!
Thanks
Trish
----- Original Message -----
From: "arthur seeley" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Wednesday, March 12, 2003 7:03 PM
Subject: Re: New sub: The Castle


Thanks for reading Trish and for your response. If you would like pointing
towards some info on these forms  I could provide a good link. Arthur.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Trish Harewood" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, March 11, 2003 1:51 PM
Subject: Re: New sub: The Castle


Cinquain, triolet, Lu-shih, Pantoum, thhese are all new to me! Amazing what
you can do with a castle. Quite a challenge, Arthur. I've got a lot to
learn!
Trish
----- Original Message -----
From: "Carol Sircoulomb" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Monday, March 10, 2003 2:48 PM
Subject: Re: New sub: The Castle


I agree very cool . It makes me want to try some.
Carol s
----- Original Message -----
From: "Sarah Willans" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Monday, March 10, 2003 6:09 AM
Subject: Re: New sub: The Castle


These are wonderful, Arthur. What a terrific project! Working within the
constraints of forms like these is a bit like doing a crossword, I think,
only much harder and ultimately more satisfying. I really enjoyed reading
them - thanks.

Sarah

----- Original Message -----
From: "arthur seeley" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Sunday, March 09, 2003 7:06 AM
Subject: New sub: The Castle


The  Castle : An Exercise in Form.

Haiku

Light through arrow loops.
Downy swoop of silent shadow-
squeals in the dark.

Lu-shih

Walls that towered to the sun,
fallen to rubble, heaps of golden stone.
Shadow that sheltered a tidy market town
home for bats, the  broken bits of night.

Clerihew

A castle
can be a parcel
of trouble
or rubble.


Limerick

If you visit the castle of Glamis
Beware of Macbeth and his army
You’ll have your throat cut
By his wife, who’s a nut
And he recites poems. They're all barmy!

Cinquain

Castle’s
high sandstone walls
crumble to fine gold sift
under the soft persistent fists
of Time.

Triolet

In sunlit corners of this broken court
every spring some snowdrops grow.
Why and by whom have they been brought
to sunlit corners of this broken court?

I cannot guess the reasons but I know
it was a handsome kindly thought
that every spring some snowdrops grow
in sunlit corners of this broken court.


Rondeau

Soft and slow along the walls the mosses grow.
Houses of the town beneath us row on row
like children huddled round a mother.
No one seems to care or bother
now, it’s left to crumble, ransomed to time the foe.

Built against marauding barons long ago
it crumbles slowly into streams that flow
around its motte, like arms around a lover,
soft and slow.

In winter when the raw winds blow
and deck the walls with swags of snow
ice-bannered ramparts remind me of another
time another place when folk would gather
to see the castellan and lady a-hawking go,
soft and slow.


Sonnet

High, black, ragged against a winter’s moon
the ruined castle broods beside the town
built against the terror of times long gone
but all its grey walls are tumbled down.

The market bustled beneath its aegis
now only foreign tourists come and stare;
ragged relic of the Middle Ages,
the busy townsfolk scarcely know its there.

Quarried by farmers, plundered by drapers,
surveyed by surveyors, dug over for knowledge,
subject for research, lost in dry papers,
dissertation for some southern college.

Time and its whims have made it redundant,
the battered wards and the keep recumbent.





Pantoum

Where moon and solemn silence fall
over the ragged turrets of the keep
moss has plugged the crumbled wall;
all but the owl and bat are locked in sleep.

Over the broken turrets of the keep
the swept clouds westward stream
all but the owl and bat are locked in sleep;
the beech and hazel mutter in a dream.

The swept clouds westward stream,
the moon is hid and then the winds unveil.
The beech and hazel mutter in a dream
of remnants, debris littering the dale.

The moon is hid and then the winds unveil
as the castle melts, decays to broken stones
of remnants, debris littering the dale,
flesh picked clean now, only yellow bones.

As the castle melts, decays to broken stones,
moss has plugged the crumbled wall.
Flesh picked clean now, only yellow bones
where moon and solemn silence fall.