6 March 2013

IN-FORM POET WEDNESDAY – CASCADE

By Poetic Bloomings

The cascade poem was a form invented by Udit Bhatia. For the cascade poem, take each line from the first stanza of a poem and make those the final lines of each stanza afterward. Beyond that, there are no additional rules for rhyming, meter, etc.   So to help this make sense, here is the pattern for a cascade tercet:

A
B
C

a
b
A

c
d
B

e
f
C

A quatrain cascade looks like this:

A
B
C
D

a
b
c
A

d
e
f
B

g
h
i
C

j
k
l
D

And, of course, you can make this even more involved if you want.  For more information and samples, see http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/personal-updates/poetic-form-cascade-poem .

MARIE ELENA’S CASCADE

PROVERBS 2:6.  “For the LORD  giveth  wisdom:  out of  his mouth  [cometh] knowledge  and  understanding.”
 
Knowledge is good
Wisdom is better
And understanding,
The need
 
Isaiah writes
“My people have gone into captivity
Because they lack knowledge.”
Knowledge is good.
 
God gave Solomon wisdom
As He had promised him
And there was peace.
Wisdom is better.
 
Solomon asked for an understanding heart
To judge his people.
And it pleased God to provide him with wisdom
And understanding.
 
Lord, grant me capacity for knowledge
An understanding heart
And wisdom to distinguish
The need.
 
© Copyright Marie Elena Good -2013
 

WALT’S

SIGHT UNSEEN

From a distance
things look cleaner; brighter.
No one sees the flaws.

Perceived perfection
takes on a luster
from a distance.

But, there is a resistance
to look past the shine;
things look cleaner; brighter.

But beneath the surface
imperfections erode and destroy.
No one sees the flaws.

 © Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik -2013
 
For all who are interested,  all seems well at Poetic Asides –  knock wood.  ;)   http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-213
 
This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 6th, 2013 at 12:02 AM and posted in Cascade (form), Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

59 Responses to “IN-FORM POET WEDNESDAY – CASCADE”

  • Erin Kay Hope
    March 6th, 2013 at 12:17 AM

    Oh thank you for this! I LOVE this form! I first saw it on Hannah Gosselin’s blog, and I’ve liked it ever since! Love your poem, Marie! It’s so good.

    Reply
  • Erin Kay Hope
    March 6th, 2013 at 12:40 AM

    Cascade of Faith

    He stood out quite plainly,
    A shining example,
    His faith grounded in Christ,
    His heart full of his Father’s love.

    Everyone who knew him loved him
    Devotedly, his smile
    Brought joy to one and all,
    He stood out quite plainly.

    As an older brother,
    Can’t think of anyone better,
    He reproved me often,
    A shining example.

    And when tumors gnawed at
    Him, and chemo broke him,
    He kept, through the pain, cascades of
    His faith grounded in Christ.

    It seems the best of us
    Always have the hardest
    Time, but he stood it all,
    His heart full of His father’s love.

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013

    And I can’t make it clear with mere words how much I admired, and still admire, respected, and still respect, loved, and still love him.

    Reply
  • vivinfrance
    March 6th, 2013 at 2:03 AM

    I wrote a kind of cascade poem at the end of PAD in 2010, using the month’s output as a theme : http://vivinfrance.wordpress.com/2010/11/29/next-step-for-pad-day-29/ It was 29 stanzas long!
    But I shall try and write another one using Poetic Bloomings format.

    Reply
  • DebiSwim
    March 6th, 2013 at 6:45 AM

    Cascade (tercet)

    Language of Food

    It was love she served,
    Heaped high in simple fare,
    In Grandma’s kitchen

    Biscuits and gravy, hot oatmeal
    Tasted good, but
    It was love she served

    Fried chicken and greens,
    Fixed with able hands,
    Heaped high in simple fare

    Food for growing bodies
    But love that lasts a lifetime, prepared
    In Grandma’s kitchen

    Reply
  • Henrietta Choplin
    March 6th, 2013 at 7:46 AM

    Meg, Lovely… Walt, those Imperfectly Perfect characteristics… :) !

    Reply
  • Janet
    March 6th, 2013 at 8:33 AM

    Wow, fantastic Cascade poetry thus far! I enjoy the ‘cascading-dance’ while reading this form:)
    I chose the quatrain cascade:

    His Loving Proof

    The whisper of a new day yearns
    On morning’s far ephemeral brink
    The velvet veil of midnight’s deep
    Dons pastel borders of soft pink

    The past whereon we dreamed and danced
    Is sealed, no refunds, no returns
    But oh, the grace of second chance
    …the whisper of a new day yearns

    From astral streams hope’s halo beams
    Time dips its quill into love’s ink
    It’s signature of mercy gleams
    On morning’s far ephemeral brink

    The gossamer of purple mist
    Embellishes the supine sweep
    Of slumber’s bliss; mute murmurs kiss
    The velvet veil of midnight’s deep

    Ah, what is man that God approves
    Our offerings of splattered ink?
    His grace in glorious, loving proof
    Dons pastel borders of soft pink

    Reply
  • Salvatore Buttaci
    March 6th, 2013 at 9:26 AM

    ORDER IN THE COURT

    All the deaf will hold a final hearing
    tomorrow at the sound of seven bells.
    They’ll determine if hearsay be truth or lie.

    The blind will watch for signs of play that’s foul,
    but only will the mute dare to speak when
    all the deaf will hold a final hearing.

    Citizens of the world, please do attend.
    Be witness to true justice when it comes
    tomorrow at the sound of seven bells.

    The deaf, the blind, the mute––all honest souls––
    will weigh the scales of crime and punishment.
    They’ll determine if hearsay be truth or lie.

    #

    Reply
  • Marian Veverka
    March 6th, 2013 at 11:05 AM

    Celebrations

    On those happy days when families would visit from out-of-town
    To celebrate an occasion or just because they are together.
    A large table in the dining room is set with lovely decorations
    And in a kitchen corner, there is a table set for children.

    Every woman brings her specialty, a dish she’s noted for,
    Which she proudly carries in and places on the table.
    While all the families gather round and praise each dish that’s offered
    On those happy days when families would visit from out-of-town.

    The children running back and forth may pause just to admire
    The many plates of goodies and perhaps to swipe a little bite
    Of a dish that is their favorite, but might be entirely devoured
    At the large table in the dining room set with lovely decorations.

    Sometimes plans are whispered among the hungry children
    A well-liked dish whose plate is set a little closer to the edge,
    Might, with a mother’s help, be slipped away to re-appear
    In the kitchen corner at the table set for children.

    Reply
  • connielpeters
    March 6th, 2013 at 1:42 PM

    A Steep Hill

    Children bundled in many layers
    Waddling like over-fed ducks
    Pulling sleds and saucers
    Trudging up a steep hill

    I sit on the floor resting
    Clothes scattered all over the floor
    I smile as I think of the fun they’ll have
    Children bundled in many layers

    As I clean up, I remember
    Friends working our way to the top
    The thrill of flying down to the bottom
    Waddling like over-fed ducks

    I bake cookies and get the hot chocolate ready
    Put some extra logs on the fire
    And wait for them to come home
    Pulling sled and saucers

    It takes a lot of work to raise children
    Great things take effort
    I learned this when I was young
    Trudging up a steep hill

    Reply
  • Janet
    March 6th, 2013 at 2:24 PM

    Sun-whispers

    Sun-whispers softly grin
    Where winds mutter, blue-cold
    And so this tug-of- war begins
    Twixt gray and azure-gold

    We long for the kind kiss
    Of summer on our skin
    And dusty lanes of bare-foot bliss
    …sun-whispers softly grin

    The dismal monotone
    Of woodland’s naked fold
    Makes a body feel alone
    Where winds mutter, blue-cold

    Gold puddles warm the earth
    Nudging the seed within
    The womb of Mother’s nature’s girth
    And so this tug-of-war begins

    The firmaments declare
    Winter is growing old
    A duel provokes the air
    Twixt gray and azure-gold

    Reply
  • seingraham
    March 6th, 2013 at 5:00 PM

    WOLF, MY WOLF

    Oh my wolf
    You howl down the moon
    Raising your lupine snout
    Your beauty slays the night

    Remember how you ran from us
    Afraid at first to trust
    That we would love you, never leave
    Oh my wolf

    We scoured the concrete jungle
    And all the yards, near and far
    Every time you ran – just to hear
    You howl down the moon

    One time we thought we’d lost you
    For good, you were gone so long
    Then driving through dusk saw you
    Raise your lupine snout

    Far out in a field, near a forest’s edge
    I was sure you would cut and run
    But I called to you and you came to me
    Your beauty slaying the night

    Reply
  • purplepeninportland
    March 6th, 2013 at 6:53 PM

    When Breezes Blow

    She flits like a butterfly
    Alighting for briefest moment
    Her perfume lingers

    Each beseeches her to try
    Settling down with one gent
    She flits like a butterfly

    Matters not, those gifts they bring her
    A butterfly disdains a cage
    Alighting for briefest moment

    Her colors change with sun’s light
    In a whoosh of wings, she is gone
    Her perfume lingers

    Reply
  • seingraham
    March 6th, 2013 at 7:09 PM

    HIDDEN

    Inside our love
    No-one sees the ache
    No-one feels such pain as ours

    Just looking at us
    There’s a glow that’s hidden
    Inside our love

    A golden glow shimmers
    Masking pain so
    No-one sees the ache

    We move as one
    Taking care not to touch
    And no-one feels such pain as ours

    Reply
  • Henrietta Choplin
    March 7th, 2013 at 2:45 PM

    Flowing

    I follow the path of least resistance
    Letting you go, if that is your wish
    And tho’ I will wonder what might have been,
    It would not be right to be so persistent.

    I would rather dream of what could have been
    Than to feel the hurt of your resistance,
    sending me running, no regard to distance,
    I follow the path of least resistance.

    Me and you, could we ever have been?
    My heart says yes,
    But, then again,
    Letting you go, if that is your wish…

    Wait…Would we have ever said, “Hello”,
    traveling down the road of life?
    Even now… I. Just. So Miss. Your Presence,
    And tho’ I will wonder what might have been,

    …If you could wonder where I am…?
    Well,
    I just can’t wonder that right now…
    It would not be right to be so persistent.

    (This one just kinda flowed all over the place…)

    Reply
  • David
    March 7th, 2013 at 11:17 PM

    My Master’s

    By David De Jong

    I am poetry spoken from my Master’s voice
    Each day a syllable, metaphor of choice
    My pages He wrote before there were words
    Long before David attended the herds

    I see his wonders and hide from His face
    He covers my soul with His name of Grace
    When men repent, all His angels rejoice
    I am poetry spoken from my Master’s voice

    His image hand drawn from earth’s virgin dust
    Adam and Eve in a garden of trust
    He holds the balance each letter’s invoice
    Each day a syllable, metaphor of choice

    Choices I have made I know they are mine
    His purpose, His will, in all He’ll refine
    I pray with His armor each day He girds
    My pages He wrote before there were words

    He swept the oceans and dusted the peaks
    Poured out the granite and scratched out the creeks
    He sharpened the stars and counted the birds
    Long before David attended the herds

    Reply

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