Rondeaux, for Turning Round to Beginnings

I haven’t written poetry in months, but, sometimes, the skies turn grey in New Mexico, and my brain is suddenly grown over in the weeds of my youth. The sodden layers emerge, leftovers from all of those years of rain, rain, and rain, and I greatly desire to write poetry. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time, so I’ve decided to pull a rondeau from my archives. It isn’t a particularly good rondeau, but I’m hoping that it will inspire my readers to comments, or to post their own rondeaux–or their own poems. Have you written any?

Augusta Wind will blow again,
Her bones a vapor wrapped in skin,
A princess of the reedy rake
Who blossoms from the river’s wake
In high-moon nights distilled in gin.

Her movement whispers through the din,
A sigh, a song, a swell within
Of rising docks that groan and shake
With a gust of wind.

Her hands are soft, but chilled with sin;
They shut the red, gin eyes of men;
They shake them on the docks and take
Their souls with soft embraces; make
Them grasp at whispering maidens,
At nothing but Augusta Wind.

p.s. Yes, I’m well aware that my rhymes are horrid, along with the rest of it.



  1. no offense taken, Anon. I don't get it, either. It just started as a joke on, oh, well, I don't need to explain it!!!

  2. Uh…Arabella, is that the kind of poetry you write? Do you have a lot of that lying around?

    That's very good work. Most people's poems, I don't read twice, yours, I've read three times and will read it again before I got back to my blog.

    Arabella, how much of that kind of stuff do you have?

  3. No, I have more to say on this. Don't degrade your work. Don't say it's a joke, because it's not. And you know it. Don't say you don't get it, because you do–it comes from themes that reside deep within you. Hell, I think I know what it means! I could be wrong, but it certainly has meaning to me. I don't have a forum for interpreting it. It wouldn't be appropriate to do it in my blog, but I would love to read more of your work.

    To analyze this poem properly, what do they call it, the scanscion? And to interpret the symbolism, which is something I'm very good at, would take up a lot of room. That's why I say I don't have the forum for it.

    But it makes me angry to see you capitulate to some idiot who doesn't "get it."

    I'm sorry, I'll calm down. And I'll leave. But you need to take yourself at least as seriously as I do.

  4. Gordon, I've spent more time working on fiction over the years, but I do have a fair amount of poetry, as well. As far as the joke, I simply meant that, literally, Augusta Wind is an obvious play on words.

    In any case, yes I degrade my writing frequently, especially my poetry. I know; I shouldn't do it. As I said, though, I've spent much more time refining my fiction. Also, my poetry is either ignored or heavily criticized, so I've second-guessed my own understanding. Being ignored is a fate worse than anything else. I thought I had found a good venue for poetry critique over at eratosphere, where the heavy-weights of metrical poetry gather, but my poetry is largely ignored there. BUT, I'm not a heavy-weight, either, and people kiss ass there as much as anywhere else.

    I appreciate you stopping by and commenting.

  5. Arabella: I posted a comment about how much I like Augusta Wind yesterday but I think I messed up posting it. I don't know what is wrong with me… I just mess up posting everywhere regularly. Anyway, it is a marvelous poem. Like Gordon commented above, I too have read it at least three times and I am not normally much of a poetry fan–which I am not proud of. But your Augusta Wind is the kind of moment excellent poetry brings with it–mystical shivers. It is very, very good. Keep writing poetry!!

  6. Brenna, thank you so much. Mystical shivers, yeah! That's a compliment. I'll send you an e-mail about formatting. I didn't mark pages or anything, but I'll give you an idea of what I mean.

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