Playing With Form
The pantoum originated in Malaysia in the fifteenth-century as a short folk poem, typically made up of two rhyming couplets
that were recited or sung.
As the pantoum spread, and Western writers altered and adapted
the form, the importance of rhyming and brevity diminished.
The modern pantoum is a poem of any length,
composed of four-line stanzas in which the second and fourth lines of each stanza
serve as the first and third lines
of the next stanza.
The last stanza takes the unrepeated
second and third lines of the first stanza,
and reverses, or changes them,
and the very last line
is often the same as the first.
It was especially popular with French and British writers in the nineteenth-century, including Charles Baudelaire and Victor Hugo,
who is credited with introducing the form to European writers.
The pantoum gained popularity among contemporary American writers after John Ashbury published the form in his 1956 book, Some Trees.
more at
also
The Making of A Poem
by Mark Strand and Eavan Boland
ISBN0-393-04916-7
The Making of A Poem
by Mark Strand and Eavan Boland
ISBN0-393-04916-7
THREE PANTOUMS
LOOSELY STRUNG and RHYMING
Idling
When this old hull starts sinking,
I turn my spinning rumination
to rest on groundless thinking,
or inter-galactic speculation.
I turn my spinning rumination
toward global thoughts, a cloud shape,
or inter-galactic speculation.
I'm wondering, what it will take?
Toward global thoughts, a cloud shape,
landscapes of imagination,
I'm wondering, what it will take
to quell this dangerous agitation.
Landscapes of imagination
cannot prevent starvation, nor serve
to quell this dangerous agitation,
and won't repair a damaged nerve.
Cannot prevent starvation, nor serve
to multiply the loaves and fishes,
and won't repair a damaged nerve.
We need far more substantial dishes.
To multiply like loaves and fishes,
to feed the greed of trillions.
we need far more substantial dishes,
not rhetoric, rhyme, cotillions.
To feed the greed of trillions,
change has to be quite drastic,
not rhetoric, rhyme, cotillions,
nor goals that seem fantastic.
Change has to be quite drastic;
a giant leap, one-to-the-power of ten,
not goals that seem fantastic.
Examine all the facts again.
A giant leap, one to-the-power of ten,
like launches to the moon or Mars.
Examine all the facts again-
We are such hot exploding stars!
Like launches to the moon or Mars,
an idea is a galaxy.
We are such hot exploding stars,
are limits, then, the fallacy?
An idea is a galaxy
that rests on groundless thinking.
Yes, limits are the fallacy
when this old hull starts sinking.
To Die
When one is young,
thoughts on death
might be a sort of fun-
surcease of breath,
thoughts on death,
that enigmatic nevermore,
surcease of breath,
many a metaphor.
That enigmatic nevermore
might trace a sympathetic tear.
Many a metaphor,
romantic, without fear,
might trace a sympathetic tear.
Pedantic, then, to contemplate.
Romantic, without fear,
to idly peruse one’s fate.
Pedantic, then, to contemplate
the future of existence,
to idly peruse one’s fate
in safety, at a distance.
The future of existence,
When age draws nigh the gate,
sans safety at a distance,
is gone! It seems too late.
When age draws nigh the gate,
might be another sort of fun.
Perhaps, it never is too late,
though one's no longer young.
Getting There
We are never there,
never, ever there for long.
This life itself-
our pilgrimage through form.
Never, ever there for long,
chrysalis, egg, womb,
our pilgrimage through form-
simple illusion, temporary.
Chrysalis, egg, womb
disintegrate, break, expel-
simple illusion, temporary,
each fragile home.
Disintegrate, break, expel-
we know it all so well...
each fragile home,
even the body, borrowed.
We know it all so well-
this life itself,
even the body, borrowed.
We are never there.
We’re always only here.
