Poetry Friday — Rondeau Redoublé

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Well, the poetry sisters have been back at our old tricks.
Throwing down dares and taking ’em up.
Dread and drudgery.
Self-flaggelation.

And, now, willingly sharing it all in public.
It’s as close as we come to reality TV, folks.

Some of you have been witness to our previous antics (see here and here), but if you’re new, it goes like this:

One of us gets a wild hare that has something to do with form poetry and a deadline.
The rest of us temporarily lose all sense of reason and say yes.
A few weeks (or months) later we all agree to post the results of the process.
Which brings us to today.

This time, it was the inestimable Ms. Kelly Fineman who suggested the form — The Roundeau.
And because it’s Kelly, it couldn’t just be the regular old run-of-the-mill Roundeau.
It had to be the Roundeau Redouble. 
(There’s supposed to be an accent on that e and I can’t make my computer do that right now… sorry.)

Kelly does her typically brilliant job of explaining the form here, and it does help (even while calling it "somewhat twisted"). But I’m willing to admit that this is the hardest form I’ve ever tried to wrangle, and I’m afraid it wrangled me.

Along with the set parameters of the form, we also agreed that there’d be an overall theme of fresh starts or resolutions.
(We originally hoped to post around the New Year, then Chinese New Year and now, um, spring?)
But one of the wild things that happens when writing in form is that you have to give up some control over content.
You may start with a sort of plan and a whole lot of best intentions, but the form tells you what goes where and what can and cannot be said and before long, voila, a voice and narrative you didn’t know you had. There’s something liberating about it and, well, terrifying, too.

So, here’s mine (which I thought I’d lost to a nasty computer virus yesterday. Convenient, huh? But no.Thanks to Google docs, everything’s forever now. Oy.)

 

What’s old is new


All that’s old is new, the slate is clean;

this morning puts to bed the night before.

Sun spills nascent light through hash-marked screen

upon the clothes left hollow on the floor.


My grievances are gone, I don’t keep score.

Your chill thawed out in hours slept, unseen.

We’re through with silent treatments, slamming doors –

all that’s old is new, the slate is clean.

 

You pour my coffee, slip into routine.

We quietly agree to just ignore

the words we’d uttered merely to be mean.

This morning puts to bed the night before.

 

I want to ask if I’m whom you adore
still and true, as if we were sixteen –

you in my heart and me so sweet in yours,

sunshine pouring through the hash-marked screen.

 

But we’re not there, we’re somewhere in between

giving nothing and afraid to ask for more.

All we can drop are hints like seeds of green

upon the clothes left hollow on the floor.

 

If they send roots into our rocky core

and blossom like tomato, squash or bean,

we will be fine and flush again with stores.

If something less, or few? Still us, serene.

All that’s old is new.

 

— Liz Garton Scanlon, 3/2010

 

Now what I’d love for you to do is zip on over to my beloved Princesses’ palaces and check out their awesome efforts.
(We are flying without Tricia today and we miss her.)

Here’s Kelly’s…
And Andi’s…
And Laura’s…
And Tanita’s…
And Sara’s… (which includes a wicked true and funny tip sheet on the form).

I am, as always, in awe of what these women can do with a pen and a piece of paper, and feeling wild with luck that I get to play with them and call them my friends…

Thanks all, and happy Friday.

(Go check out the whole round-up today at TeachingBooks.Net.)

58 Responses to “Poetry Friday — Rondeau Redoublé”

  1. jamarattigan

    You and Kelly mined the relationship theme in your rondeaux. Love “this morning puts to bed the night before.” I like the yearning and dramatic tension in your poem — and hope you ladies keep doing these challenges. 🙂

  2. Anonymous

    Tanita Says 🙂

    This gives me shivers. You and Kelly have just gotten the shadings of relationships down so well – the awful truths — and I’m still amazed that you manage to wrangle verse into expressing these things.

    I think what’s got to be the worst is ignoring a chasm between two people. The saddest line to me is giving nothing and afraid to ask for more.

    Ach, those poor people.

    • liz_scanlon

      Re: Tanita Says 🙂

      I know, right? That’s what I felt like at the end. “These poor folks… why don’t they talk???” Oi.

  3. jeniwrites

    “You in my heart and me so sweet in yours” — this line was my favorite.

    I really admire what you and the other poetry sisters have done. I once tried to write a sonnet, as part of a creative writing class in high school. I wrote it and rewrote it, several times, and could not wrestle it down. So I have such respect for writers who are able to tackle an ambitious form of poetry and create something beautiful from the effort, like you have.

    • liz_scanlon

      Working on these forms (sonnets, sestinas, roundeaus) with friends has been scary but also fun and empowering. Because really, why not?? Give it another whirl…

  4. kellyrfineman

    Still love this, Liz. And the more-hopeful ending is lovely as well. Sorry you’ve had computer issues.

    Now to figure out how to comment to Tanita – yeesh, her new piece was glorious.

  5. saralholmes

    You know I love this, Liz, because I told you before you tried to lose it in the great computer fiasco. But let me say again: each time I read it, I find more. Today, I noticed that the hash-marked screen is not just letting the light in, but parceling it out, in tiny squares. And I thought of how we love like that sometimes, and keep a tally with yes, hashmarks, of our grievances.

    Brilliant, m’dear.

  8. cloudscome

    Ah my broken heart. Spilled on this floor with last night’s empty clothes. What really knocks me over is the coffee and the sunshine coming in the screen. You’re killing me. I’m so, so privileged to be a princess with you!

    • liz_scanlon

      Oh, goodness. Thank you. I don’t love it all — I think it’s still a work in progress. But the form’s fulfilled and that was the goal for now. If there are some bits that work, gosh, all the better…

  12. Anonymous

    I love how wildly different these all are. Woot! I like it when you all challenge yourselves with these creations…You’ve really captured a moment in time here with yours, Liz.

    Jules
    7-Imp

    • liz_scanlon

      Thanks, Jules. I love how different they all are, too. I’m just so blown away by what can be done within a container…

  14. Anonymous

    Lovely

    And maybe sadly a little too timely. It soothes the heart to read your words Liz! And comforts my soul as well. Lovely lovely lovely.

    Bernadette

  15. Anonymous

    Well Done!

    Wow, such a complicated form. I’m going to try it out. Just wanted to say nicely done, Liz – I love the way you managed to get a rhyme in for the last hemistich (few/new) in addition to the end-rhymes for that stanza.

  16. Anonymous

    whoa. this is my favorite in a long time. huzzah to all you glorious poetry princesses. They are amazing pieces…all of them.

    xoel