https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/pantoum-poetic-form
http://www.utmostchristianwriters.com/articles/article3020.php
Hotel Lautréamont
BY JOHN ASHBERY
1.
Research has shown that ballads were produced by all of society
working as a team. They didn’t just happen. There was no guesswork.
The people, then, knew what they wanted and how to get it.
We see the results in works as diverse as “Windsor Forest” and “The Wife of Usher’s Well.”
Working as a team, they didn’t just happen. There was no guesswork.
The horns of elfland swing past, and in a few seconds
we see the results in works as diverse as “Windsor Forest” and “The Wife of Usher’s Well,”
or, on a more modern note, in the finale of the Sibelius violin concerto.
The horns of elfland swing past, and in a few seconds
the world, as we know it, sinks into dementia, proving narrative passé,
or in the finale of the Sibelius violin concerto.
Not to worry, many hands are making work light again.
The world, as we know it, sinks into dementia, proving narrative passé.
In any case the ruling was long overdue.
Not to worry, many hands are making work light again,
so we stay indoors. The quest was only another adventure.
2.
In any case, the ruling was long overdue.
The people are beside themselves with rapture
so we stay indoors. The quest was only another adventure
and the solution problematic, at any rate far off in the future.
The people are beside themselves with rapture
yet no one thinks to question the source of so much collective euphoria,
and the solution: problematic, at any rate far off in the future.
The saxophone wails, the martini glass is drained.
Yet no one thinks to question the source of so much collective euphoria.
In troubled times one looked to the shaman or priest for comfort and counsel.
The saxophone wails, the martini glass is drained,
and night like black swansdown settles on the city.
In troubled times one looked to the shaman or priest for comfort and counsel.
Now, only the willing are fated to receive death as a reward,
and night like black swansdown settles on the city.
If we tried to leave, would being naked help us?
3.
Now, only the willing are fated to receive death as a reward.
Children twist hula-hoops, imagining a door to the outside.
If we tried to leave, would being naked help us?
And what of older, lighter concerns? What of the river?
Children twist hula-hoops, imagining a door to the outside,
when all we think of is how much we can carry with us.
And what of older, lighter concerns? What of the river?
All the behemoths have filed through the maze of time.
When all we think of is how much we can carry with us
small wonder that those at home sit, nervous, by the unlit grate.
All the behemoths have filed through the maze of time.
It remains for us to come to terms with our commonality.
Small wonder that those at home sit nervous by the unlit grate.
It was their choice, after all, that spurred us to feats of the imagination.
It remains for us to come to terms with our commonality
and in so doing deprive time of further hostages.
4.
It was their choice, after all, that spurred us to feats of the imagination.
Now, silently as one mounts a stair we emerge into the open
and in so doing deprive time of further hostages,
to end the standoff that history long ago began.
Now, silently as one mounts a stair we emerge into the open
but it is shrouded, veiled: We must have made some ghastly error.
To end the standoff that history long ago began
must we thrust ever onward, into perversity?
But it is shrouded, veiled: We must have made some ghastly error.
You mop your forehead with a rose, recommending its thorns.
Must we thrust ever onward, into perversity?
Only night knows for sure; the secret is safe with her.
You mop your forehead with a rose, recommending its thorns.
Research has shown that ballads were produced by all of society;
only night knows for sure. The secret is safe with her:
The people, then, knew what they wanted and how to get it.
John Ashbery, “Hotel Lautréamont” from Notes from the Air: Selected Later Poems. Copyright © 2007 by John Ashbery. Reprinted with the permission of Georges Borchardt, Inc. on behalf of the author.
The pantoum consists of a series of quatrains rhyming ABAB in which the second and fourth lines of a quatrain recur as the first and third lines in the succeeding quatrain; each quatrain introduces a new second rhyme as BCBC, CDCD. The first line of the series recurs as the last line of the closing quatrain, and third line of the poem recurs as the second line of the closing quatrain, rhyming ZAZA.
The design is simple:
Line 1
Line 2
Line 3
Line 4
Line 5 (repeat of line 2)
Line 6
Line 7 (repeat of line 4)
Line 8
Continue with as many stanzas as you wish, but the ending stanzathen repeats the second and fourth lines of the previous stanza (as its first and third lines), and also repeats the third line of the first stanza, as its second line, and the first line of the first stanza as its fourth. So the first line of the poem is also the last.
Last stanza:
Line 2 of previous stanza
Line 3 of first stanza
Line 4 of previous stanza
Line 1 of first stanza
The design is simple:
Line 1
Line 2
Line 3
Line 4
Line 5 (repeat of line 2)
Line 6
Line 7 (repeat of line 4)
Line 8
Continue with as many stanzas as you wish, but the ending stanzathen repeats the second and fourth lines of the previous stanza (as its first and third lines), and also repeats the third line of the first stanza, as its second line, and the first line of the first stanza as its fourth. So the first line of the poem is also the last.
Last stanza:
Line 2 of previous stanza
Line 3 of first stanza
Line 4 of previous stanza
Line 1 of first stanza
Example #1:
It All Started With A Packet of Seeds
It all started with a packet of seeds,
To be planted with tenderness and care,
At the base of an Oak, free from all weeds.
They will produce such beauty and flare.
To be planted with tenderness and care,
A cacophony of colorful flowers,
They will produce such beauty and flare.
With an aroma that can continue for hours.
A cacophony of colorful flowers,
Bright oranges with yellows and reds,
With an aroma that can continue for hours,
Delivered from their fresh flower beds.
Bright oranges with yellows and reds,
At the base of an oak, free from all weeds,
Delivered from their fresh flower beds,
At all started with a packet of seeds.
Copyright © 2001 Sally Ann Roberts
Example #2:
Celestial Dreams Moonbeams creamy as pie Racing across the night On a journey into the sky Dreams seeking celestial light Racing across the night Past Venus waking from sleep Dreams seeking celestial light Cast into the dark so deep Past Venus waking from sleep To Saturn's expanding rings Cast into the dark so deep Catching a ride on angel's wings To Saturn's expanding rings On a journey into the sky Catching a ride on angel's wings Moonbeams creamy as pie Copyright © 2001 Marie Summers
Example #3:
Dance In The Rain Come, dance in the rain with me Let it wash our cares away Drench us through and set us free If only for today Let it wash our cares away Don't worry about tomorrow If only for today Along my path, please follow Don't worry about tomorrow This shower soon will end Along my path, please follow Cast worry to the wind This shower soon will end The memory, it will linger Cast worry to the wind Sate the primal hunger The memory, it will linger Drench us through and set us free Sate the primal hunger Come, dance in the rain with me... Copyright © 2001 Chelle Wood
Example #4:
Osprey O, sleek and beauteous hunter Who deftly takes to wing And tears her prey asunder, A victory cry she sings. Who deftly takes to wing This chilly, salty morn? A victory cry she sings As this new day is born. This chilly salty morn A seahawk silently dives, As this new day is born, To feed three brand new lives. A seahawk silently dives And tears her prey asunder To feed three brand new lives, O, sleek and beauteous hunter. Copyright © 2001 Dendrobia
Example #5:
Seasonal Whispers
Seasonal whispers, last farewells,
Autumn’s beauty forever told
With paintbrushes and pastels,
Leaf rubbings of pink and gold.
Autumn’s beauty forever told
Through the eyes of a little girl.
Leaf rubbings of pink and gold,
Among broad strokes, colors swirl.
Through the eyes of a little girl
With paintbrushes and pastels,
Among broad strokes, colors swirl,
Seasonal whispers, last farewells.
Copyright © 2005 Marie Summers
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