Sūn
Great Star!
Tone poem or not.
My life
— How do I bow down to thee?
I have heard that
⠀⠀Zarathustra and his animals
⠀⠀greet you every morning
⠀⠀upon a mountaintop
⠀⠀outside (of) his cave.
Great Star!
Tone poem or not.
My life
— How do I bow down to thee?
I have heard that
⠀⠀Zarathustra and his animals
⠀⠀greet you every morning
⠀⠀upon a mountaintop
⠀⠀outside (of) his cave.
Is the rhythm always so smooth? Even the best dance can be disrupted.
Its unexpect-
ed mur-
murs — Why pass here?
When everything
was mild and pleas-
ant — Tame?
The music and sounds produced by the leaves. Hush(hh) and listen. One leaf, one branch by itself creates very little, but the throng creates a concerto! Each playing their part, each in unison with the other. Nature’s symphony orchestra!
Hush(hh) now
Sh(hh)ould you lis(hh)ten
To the s(hh)ounds(hh)
of leaves(hh)
o
w
e
s(hh)
i
r
they
&
f
a
l
l
Nature’s(hh) mus(hh)(e)ic
Swāyĭng brānchĕs,
( ¯ ˘ | ¯ ˘ trochaic)
māny̆ rūstlĭng
( ¯ ˘ | ¯ ˘ trochaic)
lē̆aves
( ˘ or ¯ depending on the next line if it is carried, otherwise ~ ¯ )
Swaying branches,
many rustling
leaves
no(t a )thing to (the) imagination.
Imagine—Imagism!
This is a more traditional piece of structured work complying with the rules of poesy. However, although classified as iambic pentameter there can still be some unexpected variations accounting for the rhythm.
Sŏft mōrnĭng sōng, mĕllīflŭoūs pĕtītiŏn
( ˘ ¯ | ˘ ¯ | ˘ ¯ | ˘ ¯ | ˘ ¯ ˘ The feminine ending in iambic pentameter is the amphibrach giving a very pleasant ending to the line. Some may think the final foot as in˘ ¯ | ˘ ¯ | ˘ ¯ | ˘ ¯ | ˘ ¯ | ˘ [ ¯ ] to be catalectic, but we are not writing hexameters. A nice thought, but totally irrelevant. However, we need to consider the last syllable as hypermetric.)
The rondel originates from French lyrical poetry and consists of two rimes in three stanzas according to the formula ABba abAB abbaA(B). It can be thirteen or fourteen lines.
Soft morning song, mellifluous petition(amphibrach—feminine)
Of pleasantries that gently kiss the ear.
As darkness fades, the little ones appear
In ruffled feathers, dance the morn's rendition.