The Quinzaine

Posted on July 22, 2022 by Roland's Ragbag

After my attempt at a cinquaine in a recent blog, I turn to another verse form, sounding rather similar but conforming to a different set of rules.

A Quinzaine is an un-rhymed verse of fifteen syllables. The word comes from the French word quinze, meaning fifteen. The syllables are distributed over three lines so that there are seven syllables in the first line, five in the second line, and three in the third line (7/5/3). The first line makes a statement. The next two lines ask a question relating to that statement. From: Wikipedia).

Below are 4 of my attempts at a quinzaine, each related to one of my own photographs

Look! The sun is coming out
Isn’t it home time?
Dog: Food time?

I just shot an albatross
Does that mean bad luck?
Isn’t life short?

Resting place for my ashes
Will I end up there?
Who can tell?

The owl is a wise old bird
Does a stone one count?
Can he hoot?

Pastiche Poems #3

Posted on March 30, 2018 by Roland's Ragbag

A pastiche, created in PRISMA, of a painting of my own of Venice

PASTICHE POETRY

Following on from my opening outline of Pastiche Poetry (see my blog of two days ago titled ‘Pastiche Poetry’ ), and my blogs of yesterday ( ‘Pastiche Poetry #2 ) and the day before ( Pastiche Poetry #1 ), here are yet more of my own efforts (you may call them concoctions or confections if you’d rather) which I have based on the well-known opening lines of six different poets . . .

To his Coy Mistress, Andrew Marvell …

Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
But I must say, I’m getting bored
With my advances being ignored.

Tyger! Tyger!, William Blake …

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
Just be careful how you go
You’ll set the woodland all aglow.

Lines for a Christmas Card, Hilaire Belloc ...

May all my enemies go to hell,
Ah well, ah well, ah well, ah well.
I told them not to call my bluff
They wouldn’t listen, So that’s just tough.

She Walks in Beauty, Lord Byron …

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
Would that she was as sharp and bright,
Instead she got the booby prize.

Mary Had a Little Lamb, Nursery Rhyme, Sarah Josepha Hale, …

Mary found a little lamb,
She really didn’t know
What on earth to do with it,
Perhaps she’d let it go.

The Owl and the Pussy Cat, Edward Lear …

The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
It wasn’t new, and right on cue,
It ceased to want to float.

Quinzaine

Posted on March 3, 2017 by Roland's Ragbag

After my attempt at a cinquaine in yesterday’s blog, I turn to another verse form, sounding rather similar but conforming to a different set of rules.

A Quinzaine is an un-rhymed verse of fifteen syllables. The word comes from the French word quinze, meaning fifteen. The syllables are distributed over three lines so that there are seven syllables in the first line, five in the second line, and three in the third line (7/5/3). The first line makes a statement. The next two lines ask a question relating to that statement. (From: Wikipedia).

Below are 4 of my attempts at a quinzaine, each related to one of my own photographs

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