But, Brian, you've only written four! (I think.)

Someone, stop me from compulsive counting. Tell me to go away and write a bout-rimé or something...

Reading here is fun, though!

Charlotte

A World of Contrasts

Earth teems with florids, in-betweens, and plains:
the stillness of a town on Christmas Day;
a hike along a hilltop trail, away
from fumes, where birds flaunt feathers with such stains
of style, the finest painters are at pains
to render them. One-petaled blooms in May
(the calla) or complex (the dahlia) play
and tease their pollinators. Somber rains,
which coax the chorus frogs and quake the leaves
(oval, narrow, heart-shaped), when the sun’s
commanding beams appear through storm cloud sheaves,
make jazzy arcs to take away your breath.
Observe this world from space, though, as it runs
in loops, and say it looks less dull than death.

     
Well, OK, I tried... First time ever!

T. Foyle Chit-Chats About his Best-selling Book,
Traveling with King Lear: The Final Days

Remember the guy who roamed those windy plains,
the king who howled about his daughters day
and night? An awful bore. He’d run away,
said they were after him. He’d wail, “They’re stains,
stains, on the family name!” (See, I took pains
to write it down each night.) Of course you may.
My name is Foyle. And yes, I had to play
the fool. A horrid job. It never rains
but pours. I was clearing palace drains of leaves
when he heard my name, misheard—like saying suns
for sons. “A fool,” he cries. “See those sheaves
of wheat, all yours.” I’d barely caught my breath—
and I was hired! But he died—er—from the runs.
Thank God. The job could only end with his death.
     

Good one Charlotte! The rhymes come in quite naturally (well, perhaps sheaves sticks a bit, but what can we do?) I read an extra beat in L9 the first time through: did you intend an anapaest in 'I was clearing?' After the caesura it seems more natural to stress the 'I'.

I don't think youre allowed a title, but it somewhat gives the joke away anyway.

Charlotte, I haven't the time to write any more, I'm too busy reading Martin's!

Mary: thanks so much for your kind comments. I was a bit nervous posting here among all you masters of the form! I very, very rarely rhyme in my poetry. It was actually rather helpful to have the rhymes given to me on plate--for some reason! At the same time, one has to juggle too...

I agree L.9 is a little problematic--and yes, I intended an anapaest, but it does feel forced, and I will look at it later.

Also, does anyone find my last line awkward, with the extra syllable? I was trying to pack so much in, including the idea that the Fool might have killed off the King.

And yes, "sheaves" was the worst!

The title was just for fun--and in case anyone didn't know King Lear (very unlikely here, I know!).

Brian: Yes, I know, Martin has really put us to work, hasn't he?

Martin: they are SO good! Quality as well as quantity. How do you do it?!

Charlotte

Tall

His bed is nearly big as the Great Plains,
for he’s the tallest man on Earth. Each day
humanity looks up and stares away
in wonderment, but cannot see the stains
burned on his soul, his ever-present pains
with doors and clothing. Be that as it may,
he beams. Oh, basketball? He doesn’t play.
He’d rather read a novel when it rains.

Today he walks through woods and autumn leaves,
amid the dwarfing oaks, enjoys the sun’s
caress, forgets the jillion journal sheaves
that broach his height. He stops to catch his breath
and leans against a bole. His ticker runs —
tiny, steady — yet just short of death.

Charlotte - By the way, many thanks for the compliment! I like your T. Foyle take. Quite imaginative.

Besides those lines Mary mentioned, I think Line 13 sounds a bit crammed to my ear. But I have no good ideas on how to fix it without marring the subtlety of the line. I tend to pronounce "hired" with two syllables, so that makes the line have six beats. Or I could say it as one syllable, and then say "but he died" as an anapest. That seems to work.

I don't think either of those 3 lines are really that much of a problem metrically, though. Conforming exactly with the meter in a metronomic fashion is not what poetry is really about, is it?

Regarding titles, I know there are not needed, but I think a poem looks odd without one. Are you planning to send yours in with the title? I'm curious what folks have been doing in that regard.

Brian - I've been reading yours, too, and have been enjoying them.

Martin

Martin: Thank you so much for the crits. I don't have time to work on it now. But will come back later.

As for the title, I'd like to send it in that way--they can always chop it off--unless they positively don't want one, and will chuck it in the bin unread! I know Jayne said they do publish without titles.

Jayne?? Any answers to that one?

And Martin, I can't believe you've written yet another one!!

There are SO many good ones here, I'm just sending mine in for the hell of it!

Charlotte

Martin, I like "Tall" very much.

Possible suggestion for the last few words: "yet just short of death"