Notes on Pantoums

Pantoum is a very tricky form of poetry that includes no syllable patterns and optional rhyme patterns. Each line of a Pantoum is repeated exactly once. Consider the following:

1
2
3
4

2
5
4
6

5
7
6
8

7
1
8
3

Notice that each number appears only twice. For example, both lines that are numbered "7" have the exact same sentence/phrase, with possible different punctuation. They end up getting really tricky.

What We Can Do

The strings of the net are binding,
The strings of the guitar are freeing,
That seems rather odd.
But who am I to say?

The strings of the guitar are freeing,
It is binding in a way,
But who am I to say?
What if all things are this way?

It is binding, in a way,
You will be imprisoned here forever.
What if all things are this way?
But in certain ways, one can be freed.

You will be imprisoned here forever,
The strings of the net are binding,
But in certain ways, one can be freed.
That seems rather odd.

Tigris

The Tiger lies in wait,
For the hare to emerge.
Then he pounces,
A sudden surge.

For the hare to emerge,
It would be an outrage.
A sudden surge…
He knows what awaits.

It would be an outrage,
A Tiger left hungry,
He knows what awaits…
Sudden death for sure.

A Tiger left hungry,
The Tiger lies in wait.
Sudden death for sure…
Then, he pounces.

Villanelle by me

Into the Void
Out into the night, you follow,
When out from your soul your wishes pour,
No one will ever seem to know.

All is lost, the world is hollow,
We are left to the silent gore,
Out into the night, you follow.

What is above? What is below?
What can be found, in the dead core?
No one will ever seem to know.

Follow the friend, follow the foe,
For absence makes one’s heart so sore,
Out into the night, you follow.

Away has gone that strange fellow,
For he would be held here no more,
No one will ever seem to know.

Ride, into the void you must go,
Ride, into where they are no more,
Out into the night, you follow,
No one will ever seem to know.

Sonnet by me

Quiet

Silence is the answer to all known things,
Let no one tell you otherwise than this.
For peasants, common, wealthy, and for kings,
Peace is found in deadly, silent abyss.

Some believe that silence is a burden,
And that it will never be sufficient.
But words and noise are a vicious poison.
Delicious noise is one that is absent.

Song can be sweet, beautiful, and so bright,
But search for song is search for everything.
Silence makes no search, silence is finite.
And endless search is too much for bearing.

You must hush, young one, quiet is the key,
Make no words slip from thy lips, silent be.

I am Lonely

I need Friends.