Poetry Pals - Week 10 - Pantoum poems
An interestingly structured poem or two or three or four - bit of an overload this week, opps sorry not sorry.
Hello people,
This week over at
we had a guest writer, 1who writes on on Substack. We looked at the form of a pantoum and read a couple and then our task was to write one r more for ourselves. I’ve never written one before though have used repeating lines but not to this extent.Our task…
Write 8 lines and either follow the strict form or even better play around with ordering, teasing out any tension or milking repetitions that work. Try to have the last line repeat the first...or don't! Don't worry about each line being exactly worded the same but try to have them speak to each other. … If you have fragments or pieces anywhere that you'd like to develop, use them as the lines for your pantoum and explore from there.
I’m not normally a form kind of guy, but I actually relished this one. I started with following the form very strictly.
sometimes us
sometimes it is us, sometimes it is sometimes us, and sometimes it is you, and I
when we gel the world can barely tell us apart we are so in sync
when we clash my words bounce off your impervious shell
oft-times I need to repeat the conversations we had you have forgotten again
when we gel the world can barely tell us apart we are so in sync
with our thoughts synchronised, our actions in tune without consultation though
oft-times I need to repeat the conversations we had you have forgotten again
sport thoughts filling your brain to capacity; stats, scores, minutiae facts
with our thoughts synchronised, our actions in tune without consultation though
you and I do not always make an us, sometimes we miss each other
sport thoughts filling your brain to capacity; stats, scores, minutiae facts
and there is no room for me and my thoughts, and I am squashed small alone
you and I do not always make an us, sometimes we miss each other
when we clash my words bounce off your impervious shell
and there is no room for me and my thoughts, and I am squashed small alone
sometimes it is us, sometimes it is sometimes us, and sometimes it is you, and I
March 2024This first one was written after the first line came to me over night, and I actually wrote it down - amazing eh? - and I enjoyed it. Moving lines about until they worked where they were put. Changing sentence structures to make them fit in as many places as possible without changing the sense. Fun 😁.
And then I decided to play around with some prose I’d previously written and see if that worked. This was also fun. 😁 I did a double set of 8 lines. See if you can guess how the picture relates.
The Sweetest Pill
Revenge is the sweetest pill to swallow.
It is not at all bitter but sweet with tainted desire and I suck hard at it.
They say that it will stick in your throat and choke you. They are wrong.
It is sweet and wonderful and I am ecstatic with it.
It is not at all bitter but sweet with tainted desire and I suck hard at it.
I enjoy my revenge. It is my love, my desire, my soul food.
It is sweet and wonderful and I am ecstatic with it.
I feed on it as a vampire does blood.
I enjoy my revenge. It is my love, my desire, my soul food.
It fills every corner of my twisted heart and soothes my tormented mind.
I feed on it as a vampire does blood.
I have no need for other sustenance; it satisfies me completely.
It fills every corner of my twisted heart and soothes my tormented mind.
They say that it will stick in your throat and choke you. They are wrong.
I have no need for other sustenance; it satisfies me completely.
Revenge is the sweetest pill to swallow.
I enjoy my revenge; I revel in the harm I cause.
As I have been pained now I cause pain.
You deserve every flesh-rending, mind bending, will breaking, hurt I give.
And I can give more.
As I have been pained now I cause pain.
I will mar your life with misfortune, mutilate your dreams and despoil your hopes.
And I can give more.
The wounds I inflict will be great, the damage immense.
I will mar your life with misfortune, mutilate your dreams and despoil your hopes.
Leaving you weakened and plagued, but most of all,
The wounds I inflict will be great, the damage immense.
Finally, when I am wholly satisfied, you will be sorry.
You deserve every flesh-rending, mind bending, will breaking, hurt I give.
Finally, when I am wholly satisfied, you will be sorry.
Leaving you weakened and plagued, but most of all,
I enjoy my revenge; I revel in the harm I cause.
Revenge is the sweetest pill to swallow.I think I quite like the idea of revenge, but I know I wouldn’t be any good at it. I’d never be able to cover my tracks, or even think of anything to do. So two sets of lines of eight and then an extra repeat of the very first line.
Then I thought about the next section of the task which was to change it up a bit, so I took eight lines and each time a line was repeated I reduced its length until in the final stanza it was a short as possible. I felt it was okay to change lines a bit for this one. It’s about how I feel when I’m really struggling with my ME/CFS and I know I need to exert myself even though I really don’t want to and really shouldn’t.
Helplessness
I’m panicking, my fear rising quickly.
We have so much to do today and I’m really not up to it.
I’m petrified, the urge to flee all consuming,
My aching muscles cramping in tight agony.
We have lots to do and I’m not capable.
I’m verging on hysteria, overwhelmed with dread.
My muscles, tight, restricting.
My chest, constricting, struggling to gain breath.
I’m hysterical, alarmed.
I’m scared, fearful.
I struggle to breathe.
I’m terrified this will kill me.
I’m scared
I’m petrified.
I’m terrified.
I’m panicking.I did write yet another today (Thursday). I hadn’t intended to. It was a bit of an experiment. I’d written a few lines when I was bored, my ME/CFS restricts me a lot and I spend a lot of time being bored. I didn’t know what to do with these lines at all. So popped them into a pantoum and did a bit of rejigging. So that’s 4. I’ve think I’ve run the course for the moment. It was fun but I’m ready for something different now. (Oh the posh tea snob in me says this is completely the wrong way to make a cup of tea - use a teapot people.😂)
A Type of Routine
There is a type of turgid routine
We wake
We scroll
We chat.
We rise
We eat
We chat
We drink tea.
We eat
We watch TV
We drink tea
We relax.
We watch TV
We scroll
We sleep.
There is a type of turgid routine.
So there you have it, that’s a total of 8 poems this week. My task of 100 poems in 2024 is on track at 33 so far. Not bad, eh (even if some of them are a bit crap dubious)?
Until next week.
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Nancy Hanna is an Egyptian-Canadian poet living in Toronto. Her work has been in Last Leaves Magazine, and featured in Maya C. Popa's Poetry Today newsletter.
Love these, and can definitely relate to the MECFS one, that feeling of not knowing when something will cause you to crash, or not, and the constant anxiety and exhaustion it brings!!