Sevenling

Greetings to emanilapoetry enthusiasts. From the success of the cinquain train, sijo ship and haiku helicopter (awaiting darkdatu’s conversion), I am inspired to introduce yet another poetry form, the sevenling, which is a poem of seven lines inspired by the form of this much translated short verse by Anna Akhmatova (1889 – 1966).

He loved three things alone:
White peacocks, evensong,
Old maps of America.

He hated children crying,
And raspberry jam with his tea,
And womanish hysteria.

… And he married me.

                        tr. D M Thomas From Selected Poems (Penguin) 

Rules:  The first three lines should contain an element of three – three connected or contrasting statements, or a list of three details, names or possibilities. This can take up all of the three lines or be contained anywhere within them. Then, lines four to six should similarly contain an element of three, connected directly or indirectly or not at all. The seventh line should act as a narrative summary or punchline or as an unusual juxtaposition. There are no set metrical rules but, being such a short form, some rhythm, meter or rhyme is desirable. To give the form a recognizable shape, it could be set out in two stanzas of three lines, with a solitary, seventh last line. Titles are not required. A sevenling is entitled “Sevenling” followed by a word or the first few words in parentheses. The tone of the Sevenling should be mysterious, offbeat or disturbing, giving a feeling that only part of the story is being told. The poem should have a certain ambiance which invites guesswork from the reader.

Here’s my take:

 

Sevenling (Sin)

 

He loved to grin

and swill vats of gin

and make out with all kinds of queen.

 

Such was his numbness

to shame and heartlessness

he almost broke the record for duress.

 

Until Rome and Rasputin.

 

With your support, the Sevenling Ferry is all set to sail. All aboard?

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avatar About Abraham de la Torre

I'm married to a lovely, loving woman who blessed me with two wonderful sons. Poetry is my passion, even if it's on a mood level. Like, I'm a geyser one moment and drained the next. Each outpouring, however, is a personal testament to truth, a poem being empty were it phony. I got the genes from my Dad, who passed away, in 2003, at 77. He was my most avid audience. There are other inspiring sources but Dad was the darnedest. Instead of miss him, I fill the void with verses.

Comments

  1. fellow sevenling enthusiasts, erwin’s and my erroneous posts should be for the sijo ship. please pardon the mistakes.

    until you gambled on other fruit
    you were doing great like gatsby
    small surprise you shifted fancy

    for it will always be said
    that the other man’s threads
    are more silken than the earl’s

    intricate, invisible, inimitable, finery.

  2. Intricate finery is what you weave
    every time you glide past me
    I feel the invisible threads spun

    Your eyes exude a silken power
    that is echoed by your smooth curves
    embroidering me to your every step

    Your masterpiece is done: my heart pierced!

  3. Your masterpiece has pierced
    my heart into its deepest abyss
    it wriggles to disentangle in vain:

    The struggle is a futile worm
    of hope eating up its own
    flickering ember of release;

    You win, it cedes its remains.

  4. avatar cenon paez jr says:

    here’s my try for a sevenling

    I stare up into the night sky;
    oblivious to the darkness
    that lies deep within my heart.

    I was born alone.
    I grew up alone.
    I will pass away to nothingness, alone.

    Hence my soul trapped in paper.

  5. avatar cenon paez jr says:

    I pass away the night
    hoping one day, everything will be alright
    only to wake up with the pain of false hopes.

    Every single night is the same,
    walking my little jagged path to fame,
    hoping my words are enough to cope.

    when will my longed for laureate I’ll behold?

  6. avatar cenon paez jr says:

    i have been thinking of you
    dreaming of you each and every night
    while tears swiftly fall as i hold my pillow tight.

    i will be saved by you
    shiny thin strip of solitude
    cut what ties i have with this pain i’m
    bound to servitude

    it all ends tonight

  7. avatar cenon paez jr says:

    weep poor little heart
    cry yourself a river as she depart
    let the sorrow tear you wildly apart

    die in no one’s arms
    be buried in no man’s land
    be remembered for the fool you are

    all your sacrifice for love were all for naught

  8. avatar cenon paez jr says:

    i turned my back from you
    for six months i kept myself from you
    six months i was glad to be alone.

    yesterday i cried
    wept like a poor little child
    i find myself lost away from home

    now you are gone

  9. avatar cenon paez jr says:

    i love her,
    but i am falling for you
    i do not know what’s true

    i am happy with you
    but i want to be with her
    even though i wish she was you

    your bestfriend or you?

  10. welcome to the sevenling soup (kitchen), cenon. nice way to go!

    if best friends were indeed
    what they purport to be
    for all and sundry to see

    it would not have been
    as tragic the comedy
    of errors that ended up

    you marrying your best friend’s pal.

  11. @cenon – welcome! It’s always nice to have a new contributor
    @ham – good to see yah pal

    better marry your best friend
    so if she pushes you away in bed
    you have something to talk about

    or don’t hitch the wagon at all
    makes it easier to roll away
    when there’s nothing left to say

    somehow were always caught inbetween

  12. same here, dude.

    always caught in-between
    tom and dick the cousins
    straddling harry midway peeping

    every jane that he thinks plain
    enough to satisfy his main
    preoccupation, a middling

    five-fingered, fair-haired swain.

  13. avatar cenon paez jr says:

    thanks for the warm welcome!

    a weary smile
    teary eyes
    a soul that grieves a loss

    a saddened life
    a heavy heart
    to grief, an avid host

    the woman i love the most

  14. avatar cenon paez jr says:

    a friend
    a friend
    who helps when your in need

    in bed
    in bed
    she helps you finish the deed

    a friend with benefits

  15. a friend with benefits
    accruing for the twain
    both deed and need

    to keep silent company
    or noisy melody
    in foul or fair circumstance

    in mutual sacred covenant

  16. in mutual sacred covenant
    they traded words
    compelled by a lead

    the impulse to think
    drained by the torpor
    of last night’s partner

    they forgot the name of

  17. avatar darkdatu says:

    The stench of a rose
    The grating rhymes of love songs
    February should be opposed!

    Shut down all the motels
    Board up every fine dining den
    Cupid should be shot to hell!

    Love hurts most to those loved least.

  18. Those loved least
    have the monopoly
    on misery.

    Woe unto those
    who proffer sympathy
    for the lonely.

    Hell hath the fury.

  19. avatar Ham de la Torre says:

    Hell hath the fury
    some souls seemed to marry
    and prefer to tarry

    along a similar lot
    of ruin, riot and rot
    altogether in a pot

    of golden decay.

  20. golden decay; scary thought
    to lustering love not bought
    some would say otherwise

    sweet smile makes sadness flies
    cuddling all day on a couch
    makes heart happy as well as mouth

    been to both; lovely; some salt

  21. avatar Ham de la Torre says:

    some salt enhances that which is
    bland to the tongue and secret wish
    a spray or tinge of subtle bliss

    emerge from even shadowed nooks
    where mostly lurk ungentle looks
    prying, spying on unwary spooks

    like nether souls still green in upping one man’s ship

  22. avatar Erwin Fernandez says:

    In upping one man’s ship,
    why should we sink ours,
    can not both be launched?

    Why must everything be a race?
    We can both cross in time. In space,
    must we block each other’s path?

    Like crabs we pinch each others toes.

  23. avatar Abraham de la Torre says:

    like crabs pinching each other’s toes
    we seem to thrive in seeing painful throes
    in others other than our mortal foes

    we hardly find the time to rue
    the erstwhile fun in being blue
    just for the sake of being true

    to orselve, we have seem to lost even us

  24. avatar Erwin Fernandez says:

    We have lost even us:
    Our dreams have been dreamt-
    We inhale second hand smoke.

    The joke’s on and on and on,
    every time someone’s born-
    the thorn is pushed in deeper.

    Life has been worn thin before we begin.

  25. avatar Abraham de la Torre says:

    the last ore of hope to soar
    while airborne brushed against hoar
    and suspended metaphor

    aborted the flight resumed
    much much later and assumed
    a simile so attuned

    to a chilled euphemism

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