Tuesday, April 03, 2007

ballade


Mostly used by the French in the 14th and 15th centuries. Complicated as hell (see picture attached to the "judgement" post for an illustration of how complicated this is). Stresses rhyme.

Form:

Three stanzas and a short one (envoi). The envoi addresses an important person or sums up the meaning of the poem.

Each stanza has eight lines. They follow the same rhyme scheme and use the same rhymes. The Rhyme Scheme is: ababbcbC ababbcbC ababbcbC bcbC. C is always the same line.

Other forms:
ababbccdcD, ababbccdcD, ababbccdcD, ccdcD
Twelve line stanzas, six line envoi
Double ballade: six stanzas of eight, ten, or twelve lines but no envoi.


(I took a shot at the standard one...)


In the darkest corner of an unborn heart
(where phantoms asleep with fantasies
stifle glimmers of a new start),
You wait. A grove of dead trees,
still in a violent breeze
reach softly to a sky
of stars. In post-disease,
let them listen to creation’s cry.

Behind the grove in a broken down cart,
painted red with a missing wheel, she lies
staring at nighttime clouds. Quiet Mozart
fills her chest with perfect harmonies.
In the pile of documentaries
this world keeps secret, she’ll try
for dreams—in broadcast pleas,
let them listen to creation’s cry.

Backstage before the play will start:
cracked mirror make-up sessions. She’s
barely memorized her bit part
and not a one to wing it. In balconies,
angels and zombies give silent cheers; the Marquis’
announcement soon to be a lie.
When these shows are forgotten entities,
let them listen to creation’s cry.

You stepped on every species.
In all forgotten forests, you hide
your solemn footprints for blinded men to see.
Let them listen to creation’s cry

3 comments:

B-Go said...

hey, nice job! you have some really beautiful lines and images here--"darkest corner of an unborn heart" (rhythm is great); also, "cracked mirror make-up sessions..."

"violent breeze" sounds nicely contradictory. wouldn't it be cool, too, if it were also a "violet breeze"?

Nora said...

bose, you are the nicest critic on the planet. I am sold with the violet breeze. Revised:

In the darkest corner of an unborn heart,
(where phantoms asleep with fantasies
stifle glimmers of a new start)
You wait. A grove of dead trees,
Still in a violet breeze
reach softly to a sky
of stars. In post-disease
let them listen to creation’s cry.

Behind the grove in a broken cart,
painted red and missing wheels, she lies
staring at nighttime clouds. Quiet Mozart
fills her chest with perfect harmonies.
In the pile of documentaries
this world keeps secret, she’ll try
for dreams—in broadcast pleas
let them listen to creation’s cry.

Backstage before the play will start,
cracked mirror make-up sessions. She’s
barely memorized her part
and not a one to wing it. In balconies,
angels and zombies give silent cheers; the Marquis’
announcement soon will lie.
When these shows are forgotten entities
Let them listen to creation’s cry.

You stepped on every species.
In all forgotten forests, you hide
your solemn footprints for blind men to see.
Let them listen to creation’s cry

Anonymous said...

Hello,nice post thanks for sharing?. I just joined and I am going to catch up by reading for a while. I hope I can join in soon.