Writing Exercise – the rondeau
By Ashley Lister
This month I wanted to work with the rondeau. The reason why
I wanted to tackle the rondeau this month is because arguably the most famous
example of the rondeau is ‘In Flanders Fields’ by Canadian army physician, and
poet, Lieutenant John McCrae. ‘In Flanders Fields’ is a poem we hear often
during this month of remembrance and it seemed apposite to consider the
structure that supports this great work.
The rondeau is a
form of French poetry with 15 lines and a fixed, distinctive rhyme scheme. The rondeau also makes use of refrains, which
are repeated according to the stylized pattern.
The rhyme scheme for the rondeau is: a a b b a a a b C a a b b a C, where a and b are the end
rhymes and C is the refrain.
Technically each line of the rondeau should consist of eight
syllables (except for the refrains which are half lines of four syllables). Ideally, the poem should be laid out in three
stanzas and the refrain should be identical to the beginning of the first line.
All of which is easier to illustrate with an example.
I slash the strap across your back
And thrill to hear the brisk wet smack
When leather strikes unbroken skin
And you beg me to push deep in
To tight confines within your crack
And beg for a more forceful whack
Whilst reaching back to clutch my sac
You’re shrieking with a sated grin
I slash the strap
The pinwheel left a pretty track
The paddle’s bruises ne’er turned black
But stripes of leather suit this sin
You tell me this one’s for the win
And urge more force in my attack
I slash the strap
Fifteen lines of rhyming poetry will always be a challenge,
especially when you’re expected to find a refrain and use only two rhymes. The
main challenge is finding something to say that bears repeating. I was
fortunate here that the phrase ‘I slash the strap’ has a hypnotic rhythm and
seems to work within the context of sexual punishment.
As always, I look forward to seeing your poems in the
comments box below.
Let's try this again. All spelling and grammatical errors have been put there by an evil twin poster as I'd never make such an error m'self.
He slid his thumb across my lips.
I trembled, falling off that cliff
of desire taken by surprise.
His slow movement – torture, devised
to pull me forward, make me trip
into lust with him and eclipse
what I knew of myself. He dips
his thumb into my mouth, unwise
as that may be, I only nipped.
He slid his thumb
against my tongue. I sucked. He slipped
it out, so wet, and rubbed the tip
of my capricious cock. Levis
taut, I'd popped buttons from the fly.
He grabbed my ass with a firm grip.
He slid his thumb…
Oh, Nettie! This is brilliant! You took me totally by surprise with "capricious cock". And the rhyme of 'eclipse' and 'dips' – unexpected and yet inevitable, as poetry should be!
Why thank you so much for reading & commenting, Lisabet. I was surprised I could actually finish this piece.
best wishes
-nettie
Nettie – thank you for rising to the challenge on this one. It's a restrictive format but, through enjambment and your natural talent, you've managed to work in some pretty stylish lines. solid rhyming, clever use of assonance on the second line, and (as Lisabet noted) the surprise of discovering that this is homoerotic poetry is cleverly placed in the third stanza.
Damned good poetry.
Ash
Thank you for your kind comments, Ash. I'm back from blushing now.
Here's mine. Far more cerebral than Nettie's but I believe it fits the form.
Restraint
By Lisabet Sarai
My hands are tied, but were I free
I'd suck your cock and sip your pee;
I'd spread my lips so you could sense
the aromatic evidence
of what your voice can do to me.
My flesh and heart in heat agree.
Unlock them both; you hold the key
to joy and anguish, both intense.
My hands are tied.
You think me lost. Why can't you see?
If you should claim the whole of me
as yours, I'd offer no defense.
But you're a gentleman, and hence,
my ring makes all this fantasy.
My hands are tied.
That four beat refrain is so clever: the combination of the erotically physical related to the pragmatically metaphoric.
I'm also impressed (jealous) of the way arrhythmic was you've used your caesura in the final stanza. The balance is meticulous. Quality poetry.
Ash
What? "the arrhythmic way you've used your caesura"? Speak English, Ashley! ;^)
But of course I'm glad you like it. As I've said before, I'm not sure I even believe this is poetry, but it's an enjoyable challenge.
Breathplay Rondeau
You hold your breath, I count to three
and make you give it back to me
I clamp my lips against your own
my skin to yours, my flesh and bone
connected to you ardently
breathe out again despite your plea
for air carbon dioxide free
(though wordless, I can hear you moan)
You hold your breath.
The lure of this activity
in skirting our mortality
to bring us to a mutual zone
hypoxic in progesterone
my will to yours becomes the key.
You hold your breath
Nettie: Utterly awed. I am such a sucker for a good enjambment.
Lisabet: What a delight, but so chaste at the end!
Ashey: Marvellous. So good I almost didn't even attempt a rejoinder!
You got the words 'hypoxic' and 'progesterone' in a poem without interrupting the scansion or upsetting the flow.
Damn but you're good. I've missed you these past couple of months. Hope everything is OK.
Ash
Thanks Ash 🙂
I'm good, thanks. Not sure how or why I missed the last couple. I'm usually more diligent. I might have been on holiday, I think.