The sevenling was created by Roddy Lumsden.
This 7-line poem is split into three stanzas.
The first three lines should contain an element of three. It could be three connected or contrasting statements, a list of three details or names, or something else along these lines. The three things can take up all three lines or be contained anywhere within the stanza.
The second three lines should also contain an element of three. The two stanzas do not need to relate to each other directly.
The final line/stanza should present a narrative summary, punchline, or unusual juxtaposition.
Titles are not required. If titles are used, they should be titled Sevenling followed by the first few words in parentheses.
The tone can be mysterious, offbeat or disturbing.
Poem should encourage guesswork from the reader.
MARIE ELENA’S LUCKY SEVENLING:
Sevenling (Stretching the limits)
Stretching the limits
Distancing yourself
Reaching for gold
Falling short
Sealing fate
Sterling performance
Take this nugget to the bank: Silver’s precious medal does not a failure make.
© Marie Elena Good – 2012
WALT’S POEM IN TERMS OF SEVENLING:
SEVENLING (MOONLIGHT SERENADE)
Moonlight Serenade plays softly in the mist,
A lovers tryst set to a melody; perfect in rhythm and meter.
A slow dance to press you closer; to hold you dear.
No lyrics are needed to convey love.
No whisper could ever express your heart.
No one else can hear the beautiful music in your sigh.
When we fiddle around, the song in our hearts plays on!
© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012
August 8th, 2012 at 12:48 AM
Love both of yours, Meg and Walt. Since sleep won’t come, I’ll try this now.
my dulcimer hums
a melody beckons
my fingers search
wind and rain
joy and pain
a string breaks
love consumes me
August 8th, 2012 at 2:46 AM
haunting poem here – great phrasing to wrap it up.
August 8th, 2012 at 7:19 AM
I LOVE this, it has a unity, and truth. No succumbing to pain, only to love!
August 8th, 2012 at 8:27 AM
“… wind and rain joy and pain a string breaks… ”
August 8th, 2012 at 10:53 AM
such beauty here Jane … and “dulcimer” – such an uncommonly lovely word …
August 8th, 2012 at 10:55 AM
sevenlings – one of my favourite forms – thanks Marie Elena and Walt – and both of you led us off in such fine fashion with your own eloquence … I especially love the final lines in both of your poems
August 8th, 2012 at 11:14 AM
Jane, do you play the dulcimer?
August 9th, 2012 at 4:02 AM
Gorgeous
August 8th, 2012 at 1:53 AM
Jane, What ‘profitable non-sleep’ i.e. to poem!Very nicely done.
Marie – How timely your ‘subject’ matter and with such a great object lesson for anytime.
Walt – delightful, had to laugh at you last line.
August 9th, 2012 at 12:23 AM
Thanks for the kind words, friends. Yes, I do play dulcimer, but not very well. It’s music I can carry (as opposed to piano or organ). I loving all these sevenlings. A good form, M and W. Thanks.
August 8th, 2012 at 2:27 AM
The sun is out,
Not too hot,
Soft breeze blowing.
Brushes laid so,
Full can of paint
Naked new wall.
Where’s Tom Sawyer when you need him?
August 8th, 2012 at 2:50 AM
tom sawyer reference leads to lots of possible endings – looking for the tom sawyer in yourself or for him to convince you to get the work done and enjoy it?
August 8th, 2012 at 7:20 AM
You’d need a Huck as well as Tom! Funny poem!
August 8th, 2012 at 12:47 PM
!!
!!
August 8th, 2012 at 9:42 AM
You are a genius, MMT. Love this!
August 8th, 2012 at 10:56 AM
nicely done MMT
August 9th, 2012 at 12:25 AM
Love it! Tom and Huck are fishing or playing pranks, like the unhappy worker in all of us.
August 9th, 2012 at 4:03 AM
Your first stanza described my perfect weather. The second took me back to some favourite characters.
August 9th, 2012 at 3:49 PM
Enjoyed this, MMT.
August 9th, 2012 at 4:20 PM
Love that ending!
August 10th, 2012 at 7:25 PM
Thank You all for your comments – I have not had much time at the computer (to read and Comment) Because I have been busy painting the outside of my house – thus the inspiration for the poem
No naked walls – just old painted ones to redo!
August 10th, 2012 at 11:09 PM
No problem. Love your work.
August 8th, 2012 at 3:37 AM
Your two poems do more to explain the concept of “sevenling” than any explanation. No time today, but I’ll have a go later.
August 8th, 2012 at 6:14 AM
Sevenling
It’s been so many years,
so many long miles,
this patina of indifference separating us.
Father, I think, how frail,
how much like grandfather you’ve become.
When did you get so old?
No, not father, I realize, but my brother staring at me.
August 9th, 2012 at 4:04 AM
and I have become my mother.
August 8th, 2012 at 6:44 AM
Sevenling
It’s been so many years,
so many long miles,
this patina of indifference separating us.
Father, I think, how frail,
how much like grandfather you’ve become.
When did you get so old?
No, not father, I realize, but my brother staring at me.
http://unevenstevencu.blogspot.com/
August 8th, 2012 at 6:47 AM
whoops last line
No, not father, I realize but my brother staring back at me.
August 8th, 2012 at 10:56 AM
clever and haunting both
August 8th, 2012 at 4:48 PM
Oh, so very real. I do see my mom in the mirror!
August 8th, 2012 at 7:21 AM
OUCH! and so it is and will be. Sharp insight.
August 8th, 2012 at 8:31 AM
“… and so it is…”
August 8th, 2012 at 9:44 AM
Wow, so well written and so true. I see that with my siblings. Its even more disturbing when you see it in the mirror!
August 8th, 2012 at 11:15 AM
Wow, that’s a thought-provoker.
August 8th, 2012 at 7:50 PM
Ooooo, well done!!
August 9th, 2012 at 4:21 PM
Haunting thought, more haunting image.
August 8th, 2012 at 8:22 AM
Meg, timely one; Walt, as one who used to play the violin… yours made me smile…
!
August 8th, 2012 at 9:01 AM
an oldie …
sevenling (Consider migrating monarch butterflies)
Consider migrating monarch butterflies
Mute swans mating for life
Silverback gorillas killed for their hands
A wing fluttering in Brazil
Is said to affect the flow of the Niagara
And still toast burns all over Asia
Did you see the way that taxi took the corner?
August 8th, 2012 at 9:47 AM
Sharon, I love this! You write the way I think. And still toast burns all over Asia!
August 8th, 2012 at 10:01 AM
You did a wonderful job of summing up the wonder, tragedy, and humor of this planet in just 7 lines. Awesome!
August 8th, 2012 at 10:17 AM
Andrew and Linda – thank you so much!
August 8th, 2012 at 12:50 PM
… yes… Awesome!
August 8th, 2012 at 11:17 AM
This form is putty is your hands, Sharon.
August 9th, 2012 at 6:19 PM
I agree, Janice!
Marie Elena
August 8th, 2012 at 4:52 PM
I think I like the short poet forms – so much can be said is so few words and forget the fluff. Well done.
August 8th, 2012 at 4:57 PM
What a bunch of contradictions in the even tone of a worldly person. The glibness crunches!
August 9th, 2012 at 12:28 AM
It’s wonderful!
August 9th, 2012 at 4:05 AM
This is my kind of butterfly thinking.
August 9th, 2012 at 4:22 PM
Very well done, Sharon!
August 8th, 2012 at 9:46 AM
Sevenling: We climbed Ventoux
We climbed Ventoux in a morning
chasing yellow-clad cyclists to the restaurant at the top
for crudités, chevre chaud and a bottle of vin rouge.
Snowdon we did in an afternoon
following the wheezing train, to be rewarded with
kit kats, Kendal mint cake and a nice cup of tea.
No wonder the French feel so damn superior.
August 8th, 2012 at 9:59 AM
I love it, Andrew! Puzzle solved!
August 8th, 2012 at 10:18 AM
Oui – no wonder, loved this too Andrew …
August 8th, 2012 at 11:18 AM
Adding my love, too.
August 8th, 2012 at 4:53 PM
August 8th, 2012 at 4:55 PM
I laughed! They sure have the most amazing tastes of celebration.
August 9th, 2012 at 12:29 AM
A chuckle. Thanks, Andrew.
August 9th, 2012 at 4:07 AM
Kendal Mint cake is just as good as chêvre chaud – just different!
I climbed Snowden once, by the Pig Track. At the top we saw nothing but the tops of clouds and a lot of litter.
August 9th, 2012 at 6:20 PM
Your final line had the surprise punch common to this form. And it made me laugh!
Marie Elena
August 8th, 2012 at 9:49 AM
Sleep eludes me.
I toss and turn.
I need some rest.
The bathroom beckons,
A brief escape
From night’s futility.
The brain cannot shut out that which haunts the conscious mind.
August 8th, 2012 at 10:19 AM
oh too true Linda … great sevenling
August 8th, 2012 at 4:54 PM
I love the bathroom as escape from a too common problem. The brain cannot stop the haunting, I know. But reading for a while, or writing might?
August 8th, 2012 at 7:16 PM
So true, Susan. Writing does it for me too!
August 8th, 2012 at 4:55 PM
Well said – as I trudge again to the little toom.
August 9th, 2012 at 4:08 AM
Your summation line is all too true. I loved the bathroom diversion, too.
August 9th, 2012 at 4:23 PM
Good one, Linda!
August 8th, 2012 at 9:51 AM
The Paradigm Shuffle
June Cleaver: Nary a hair out of place
spotless house and homemade dinners;
drawn to family like lovebugs to windshields.
You: Kicked the sand castle, watched
it crumble before your eyes, then dug
a moat around your uneasy heart.
Menopause sucks.
August 8th, 2012 at 10:00 AM
Oops… messed up on the title. It should be “A Sevenling: June Cleaver: Nary”
August 8th, 2012 at 11:20 AM
Hear, hear–in reference to your last line. Do you think June ever felt that way?
August 8th, 2012 at 4:57 PM
If she hasn’t …she will!!!
August 8th, 2012 at 7:11 PM
lol- If she did, she never said it aloud… how unladylike that would have been.
August 8th, 2012 at 10:52 PM
Your’re exactly right, Laurie. That was one of our “unmentionables”…
August 8th, 2012 at 4:52 PM
Ha! Good to read your poem again. I can see I did my title wrong too. Whoops!
August 9th, 2012 at 12:32 AM
I’m not showing this phase of myself in my TV show either. June probably cusses those boys under her breath
August 9th, 2012 at 4:09 AM
But afterwards, yippee.
August 9th, 2012 at 4:24 PM
Perfect!
August 9th, 2012 at 6:22 PM
Oh no! Poor Laurie! Makes for a great sevenling though, eh?
Marie Elena
August 8th, 2012 at 9:57 AM
Laughing out loud, Laurie. Great poem and I am so there!
August 8th, 2012 at 10:20 AM
oh yes – use the sevenling title – it’s great! and so is this sevenling … wonderful Laurie, very cool …
August 8th, 2012 at 10:27 AM
another one from the vault (somewhat revised)
sevenling (She kept her thoughts under)
She kept her thoughts under lock and key
Spoke in tongues into open mics
Left essence of opinion all over the place
Most thought her life an open book
Would be shocked to learn of her drowned child
And the one appearing on milk cartons everywhere
What is the average stay on death row for women?
August 8th, 2012 at 4:51 PM
Wow!!! Yeah, the people who talk all the time often use the patter as a smoke screen, The ending Question adds power.
August 8th, 2012 at 5:00 PM
Do agree with you, Susan.
Quite a porm – says a LOT
August 8th, 2012 at 5:03 PM
Hoops – that should be poem!
August 8th, 2012 at 7:48 PM
Eee! Scary!!
August 9th, 2012 at 4:25 PM
Wow! This is amazing and scary.
August 8th, 2012 at 11:02 AM
Scooting across the floor,
crawling toward the stairs,
walking through the grass –
running to the front,
skating along the ice,
waltzing down the hall -
keep chasing your dreams.
August 8th, 2012 at 12:53 PM
YES!!! Love it!!!
August 8th, 2012 at 5:05 PM
OH, YES – keep on a-going!
August 8th, 2012 at 8:01 PM
Thank you ladies.
August 9th, 2012 at 4:11 AM
They grow up far too fast. A whizz-through life, your sevenling.
August 8th, 2012 at 11:04 AM
Sevenling (Spring’s pashmina)
The peacock voice carries a note of discord,
when heartened lad loves jealous lassie hen—
She, a glossy icy envy of his illuminati eyes.
How I long to scatter your Asian fan upon the breeze.
Your seed to plant into my garden bed of peace.
I’d gather the blooms with harmony hands.
Then weave them into a pashmina for orphaned foals.
See Sevenling(Spring’s pashmina) for full effect
August 8th, 2012 at 12:59 PM
Ohh… I can hear the peacock’s voice now… it always touched my heart with an aching longing… I don’t know why…
(My husband taught at the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, CA, and there was a resident peacock who was so incredibly Beautiful and Haunting… )
August 8th, 2012 at 4:49 PM
(I commented on your blog.
August 8th, 2012 at 11:10 AM
Sevenling (She thought she heard)
She thought she heard her name
and looked behind her –
no one was there.
The tea kettle whistle blew
and the seconds ticked by –
the phone cradled in her hand.
Death called and she wished she had been out.
August 8th, 2012 at 11:22 AM
OOh, haunting.
August 8th, 2012 at 11:38 AM
I agree … love this Michelle and it’s just chilling …
August 8th, 2012 at 12:02 PM
Wow.
Marie Elena
August 8th, 2012 at 1:06 PM
Ohhh… tears…
August 8th, 2012 at 4:44 PM
Ouch. Those premonitions are usually right, but this is a shocker!
August 8th, 2012 at 5:09 PM
That’s hard – but real.
Well done.
Now must stop – back to read more later.
August 8th, 2012 at 7:46 PM
Wonderful. So ominous!
August 8th, 2012 at 8:00 PM
Thank you everyone for your comments. Much appreciated.
August 9th, 2012 at 4:26 PM
Eerie. I almost feel like it describes my Mom’s life slipping away now.
August 9th, 2012 at 6:26 PM
Ohh…
!
August 8th, 2012 at 11:27 AM
Sevenling (Gold drips)
Gold drips from necks
while rebels fight
and politics impinge on our senses –
Birds cry for food
and dogs whine
as the lazy days of summer linger on –
Chores do not get done on their own.
August 8th, 2012 at 12:01 PM
Oh, EXCELLENT work, Michelle! Super use of the form, as I believe it was intended to be used. BRAVO!
Marie Elena
August 8th, 2012 at 4:43 PM
So cool, Michelle, what you say and you don’t say (which is the glue that sticks it all together). Drama and politics and wealth et alia “Impinge on our senses” indeed, mostly through the TV and computer screens.
August 8th, 2012 at 7:59 PM
Thank you so much Marie Elena! Thank you very much Susan!
August 8th, 2012 at 7:45 PM
Awesome! As Marie said, you clearly know how to use this form to its advantage!!
August 8th, 2012 at 12:05 PM
Y’all are rockin’ this form!!
Marie Elena
August 8th, 2012 at 2:57 PM
sevenling (Not yet reasoning)
Not yet reasoning, his trust is instinctive
And he extends it to sweet potatoes
The Spectrum Song and ducks
Not yet logical, he doesn’t ‘get’ the cage
Or darkness layered like blankets
Or his missing mama he can smell
He wonders as he weeps if the shadows on his window are monsters
August 8th, 2012 at 4:39 PM
Sweet babe! Sad that wondering at the cause of shadows is the first use of his reason! Good use of the form.
August 8th, 2012 at 7:43 PM
Oh my . . . this is beautiful. And heart-wrenching. :’( Well done.
August 8th, 2012 at 7:55 PM
Oh! I love your teardrop depiction!
August 8th, 2012 at 10:09 PM
Haha yes, it comes in handy on this site sometimes, what with all these mercilessly tear-jerking poets about!
August 9th, 2012 at 7:03 AM
… Oh, I know… gotta Love ‘em!!!
!
August 8th, 2012 at 7:53 PM
Beautifully touching sweetness…
August 8th, 2012 at 4:36 PM
The Power of Performance
The entire world knows as well as I that
“. . . the play’s the thing
Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the King.”
Aristotle told us this centuries before Shakespeare,
And we have seen theaters close in Poland, Hungary—
anywhere that fears waking the conscience of a people–
I see a place that is free! come make plays with me!
I say quite a lot about this poem over at my blog. Feel free to visit as the poem will be there for about 5 days: http://susanspoetry.blogspot.com/
Here, I just want to thank both Walt and Marie Elena for the powerful examples that they gave for this form. Brevity challenges me. Thank you.
August 8th, 2012 at 7:57 PM
… yes…
August 8th, 2012 at 5:51 PM
A Fiery Sevenling
Angry flames of fire rise
Torches that burned and flickered in my heart,
hosed down now, watered to cool liquid.
Riffling through gun catalog, he hunted
for the perfect weapon to wield, pointing,
posturing in the mirror, practicing stance–a rehearsal.
There must be fifty ways to fuel destruction.
August 8th, 2012 at 5:57 PM
“50 ways to leave your lover”! Get out now! Good powerful poem!
August 8th, 2012 at 7:59 PM
… painful…
August 9th, 2012 at 4:28 PM
Thanks, Hen.
August 8th, 2012 at 11:48 PM
Thanks, Susan!
August 8th, 2012 at 7:41 PM
Sevenling (Three Witches)
Three witches ’round a cauldron hover.
Three murders done ’neath darkness’ cover
Haunt her now thrice-honoured lover.
Blood unwashed from hands unclean,
Blood so red no sea of green
Can make the ghastly blood unseen.
Once the guilty Lady screams.
August 8th, 2012 at 8:00 PM
Yikes!!!
August 8th, 2012 at 8:53 PM
Sevenling – The Old Place
We drove over the new Bay Bridge
We searched across the choppy water
to see the peninsula where the trees were turning green.
We slowed at the curve by Meadowbrook Marsh
where people were fishing for catfish from the bridge
Slowed down again when we neared that gravel lane
To try to see the house where we had lived for forty years.
August 8th, 2012 at 10:11 PM
Oh my, yes, looking at “the old place” can be bittersweet, and you’ve captured it so well.
August 9th, 2012 at 7:00 AM
… yes, bittersweet…
August 8th, 2012 at 11:21 PM
Sevenling (chain of gold)
Chain of gold
heart-shaped photo
and a broken locket
Life danced away
the partners gone
from beloved ballroom
Still the piper must be paid…
August 9th, 2012 at 6:58 AM
…sadness…
August 9th, 2012 at 12:44 AM
Sevenling (You Stepped on the Cat)
You stepped on the cat again
neglecting to look down, into, at
even when fur fans your foot
The oven, dryer, and microwave shout
at me—I’m sick of their shrillness,
measuring the time we have left
Forgiveness floats light as a whisker
August 9th, 2012 at 6:54 AM
Uh-ohh…
August 9th, 2012 at 3:07 AM
[...] Bloomings suggests we try a Sevenling and the Imaginary Garden gave us some inspiritational photographs. This is the [...]
August 9th, 2012 at 3:11 AM
I’m late. There’s a picture with my sevenling, so the link is above. Without the picture, the poem makes no sense!
August 9th, 2012 at 6:50 AM
Well, Viv…. I think the answer is: Just for the Fun of it
…. for me, there is just something about a cantering horse with your hair flying in the wind…
August 9th, 2012 at 6:52 AM
…this guy seems to still love playing in the water… LOL!
August 9th, 2012 at 6:42 AM
Sevenling (Last Night’s Storm)
Like the ocean’s tide
I feel you crest
Rising me up
And when you recede
My heartbeat flatlines
And I float adrift
In that next moment, I wake up
August 9th, 2012 at 8:59 AM
Sevening (Famous Latin Words Beginning with the Letter V)
Veni
Vidi
Vici?
My car came to a screeching stop
as I saw a squirrel scamper across the road.
I’m still sitting on a curb, waiting for the towing service to arrive.
“Energy and persistence conquer all things.” -Ben Franklin, on squirrel philosophy.
August 9th, 2012 at 3:31 PM
Sevenling (Ripped Jeans)
Ripped jeans, over-sized shirt,
hollow eyes, growling stomach,
small portions, no seconds.
Juicy Couture, Nike, Coach,
tinted contacts, kettle bells.
picky eater, snacks twenty four-seven.
All within a mile of the other.
© Kelly E. Donadio 2012
August 9th, 2012 at 6:10 PM
Wow. A poetic punch. Well captured, Kelly.
Marie Elena
August 9th, 2012 at 4:29 PM
So accurate, Kelly.
August 9th, 2012 at 5:19 PM
Enjoying the banter, comments and of course poems! I could do this all week… oh wait, I have! W.
August 9th, 2012 at 6:18 PM
LOL!
August 9th, 2012 at 11:21 PM
Sevenling (Golden Straw)
Golden straw pulled from ticks
Damp, earthy, bark-peeled sticks
Solid, rusty, high-stacked bricks
Handy online bank access
Web-maps to your home address
Password memory ending stress
You let the wolf in? Face your regrets.
August 10th, 2012 at 2:07 AM
Scary…
August 10th, 2012 at 3:37 AM
Sevenling (Rainfall)
Your calming presence
washes over me
when you are near
It does not matter
where you go…
I only care that you return.
Excuse me but haven’t I seen you somewhere before?
August 10th, 2012 at 4:39 PM
Sevenling (I Remember)
I remember whiling away the time playing jacks,
trying my hardest but never able to do much with a yoyo
but going into the thousands with a paddle ball.
I sit for hours typing away on my computer,
I enjoy driving through the mountains in my Toyota.
I use the microwave over most often to cook.
All ages play at something, just the toys change.
August 10th, 2012 at 6:24 PM
Hee, hee, “…into the thousands with a paddle ball…” ?!?!