Thanks for participating in the Mizzmouse Poetry Contest!

The Fifth Mizzmouse Poetry Contest

Our congratulations to the winner of the Fifth Mizzmouse Poetry Contest.

We are delighted to publish the winning poem, Mantis Religiosa by Jennifer Moore.

Judge’s comments " beautifully crafted..."inventive, clever, an absolute pleasure to read".

Thanks very much for all your entries. Please let us see more of your work and once more make our selection of the winning poem both difficult and pleasurable.

The Sixth Mizzmouse Poetry Contest is asking this time for poems in any style. The full details are on this page.

Winning Poem - Mantis Religiosa
(Praying Mantis)

by

Jennifer Moore

Raptorial forelegs clasped tight now in prayer
for grasshoppered morsels, for sweet moths to snare,
God grant me a cricket, a succulent fly,
carnivorous longings, dear Lord, ratify,
grant me stillness and patience, conceal me from foe,
on each leathered wing, Lord, your blessing bestow,
grant me five benedictions for each hunting eye,
each lightning-speed spiked limb, dear Lord, sanctify,
grant me sharp sight before me, clear vision behind,
may my prey be myopic, my predators blind,
God bless me with motherhood, grant me a mate,
make him mantis enough to embrace his true fate,
may our coming together be passionate and right,
pray let me not fail when it comes to the bite.


Mizzmouse Poetry Contest No 6

This contest will open for entries later in 2009.

The closing date has not yet been arranged but will be posted on the site and on the internet. As the closing date will almost certainly be late in the year this will give you plenty of time to prepare your entries. We will be looking forward to receiving them

As usual the winner will be announced on the website. There is a prize of £50 (or Euro equivalent) for the winning poem.

RULES



The competition is open to all

Poems should not exceed 20 lines, should be in English and on any subject, and can be in any form, free verse or traditional.

Poems should be the original work of the author and not previously published -copyright remains with the author. The winning poem will be published on the website. Entries cannot be returned under any circumstances so keep a copy. Judge's decision is final. No correspondence will be entered into.

FORMAT
Entries typed on one side of A4 paper but should not include the name of the author. Name and address (and email if possible) of the author together with the title of the poem submitted should be enclosed on a separate sheet of paper.

FEE
Please enclose with your entry the fee of £1 sterling (or Euro equivalent) for each poem submitted. Sterling or Euro cheques only please, made payable to E Auld. Send entries to: Auld, Mizzmouse, Mas de Piepalat, 46230 Escamps, Lot, France.

Good Luck!

Words and Music

There are learned studies on the poetry to be found in song lyrics, and analyses made of just why some songs are thought of as poetry and others are not. I’m not attempting anything more here than to put down my thoughts on songs which I feel have merit as poetry. It will be only a representative few, and you will, I’m sure, have your own favourites. In my view, if the words of a song can stand alone, without music, and convey significance and feeling, they are poetry. I should think that the best songs would be those where the words and music, complement each other and are of roughly equal importance in creating mood and atmosphere or in telling a story.

Songs for Children: One of my favourites 'Dance to your Daddy’ is simple and sweet, without being too sentimental, and certainly fits the tune. Another one of happy memory - 'Sweet and Low.’

Traditional and Folk Songs: There are so many that would qualify so I will just mention a couple. 'Wild Mountain Thyme’ by Francis McPeake, based on the 'Braes O’Balquidder’ to me is an example of words and music complementing each admirably, as is ’Men of Harlech’.

Songs from Shakespeare’s plays: 'Under the Greenwood Tree’ is a song which I must confess I have never heard sung, but the words are really all I need. A favourite for words and music is 'Hark, hark! The lark at heaven’s gate sings’.

Hymns and Carols: 'Eternal Father, strong to save’ is a hymn I always find stirring, both for the music and words. The psalm ’The Lord is my Shepherd’ - a poem as much as a hymn.

Gilbert and Sullivan: On the lighter side (and why not) there are obviously some very clever lyrics to be found in the operettas, such as 'The Ruler of the King’s Navy’ from Pinafore and 'When all night long a chap remains’, the sentry’s song from Iolanthe, contains much that is relevant today.

Blues Music: Some blues lyrics are very powerful, such as Robert Johnson’s 'Cross Road Blues’, also 'Stagger Lee Blues’ and 'Strange Fruit’, so movingly sung by Billie Holliday. Certain lines from blues music remain fixed in one’s consciousness, I think particularly of the line 'Sometimes I feel like a motherless child’.

Modern standard songs: A favourite of mine, for words as much as music is 'Passing Strangers’ - not heard much nowadays, I regret. Yet another classic song with well written lyrics is 'Among my Souvenirs’.

More recently we have had excellent, poetic lyrics from Bob Dylan, with songs such as 'Mr Tambourine Man’, The Times they are a-Changin’, and many others. The Beatles too have given us 'The Long and Winding Road', 'Eleanor Rigby’ and many more than there is space to quote. There are surely more recent song lyrics of great poetic quality and I leave these to you to discover.

One last word, isn’t it strange that some of the most striking poetry to be found is contained in King Solomon's ' Song of Songs’ - which doesn’t have any music!

Mizzmouse Poetry – The Premier Mode Of Communication

MATTHEW J. BROWNING

I am not a linguist. In my school days my interests were decidedly technical and practical, and outside of sporting activities I did have a facility with mathematics As for languages, my native tongue was quite adequate, thank you; such was my youthful arrogance. Growing up does tend to change one’s perspective, however, and traveling widely, mainly throughout these Britannic Isles, the difficulty of being understood between neighbouring Shires, even in our common tongue, English (U.K., of course), became quite apparent and soon made me realise the importance of language. Clearly, earlier feelings regarding other tongues had to be abandoned. Unfortunately the facility for learning any of them has never been one of my skills, so I had to rest content with the blessings bequeathed to me.

Adequate communication is a necessity for understanding, but often we find that precision is of paramount importance; a skill long sought and its mastery cherished, though not by everyone. Indeed, in the ordinary affairs of life and loving we may well find that most people give it little thought, but the pressures and intensity of living today have increased dramatically so that there is now an urgency for greater concern in this field. Happily we are seeing this being answered, though not as much by officialdom as we would like, but in the private sector, where we find an increase in writing clubs and linked bodies with associated competitions in the art.

While there are many forms of communication, language skills are of more universal concern to us and are profitable to our best interests; writing having its special place, be it prose or poetry, both of which can be a boon to all, and especially the latter — which leads us into the main thrust of this article.

First of all, however. a question arose in a British Church Newspaper about a year ago, concerning the use of “obsolete English in telling the unsaved of their spiritual predicament." Whatever may be the relevancy of that to the faith of anyone, one wonders why we have to create obsolescence by neglecting enlightening standards for sound understanding and a useful vocabulary embracing the soul of communication. Many words now used less frequently are far more expressive than those supposedly replacing them. Technological and scientific advances produce additions which intrude upon the conduct of our affairs unless limited to their own fields. Life is not all about the 'workplace,’ be it office, workshop, factory or store. The 'living’ element has its own language to be comprehended. Further, changing word meanings to accommodate corrupting idioms of life and living is an appalling indictment of the integrity of any people.

Poetry is a peculiar art form. Indeed, it is unique; the very word often being used to describe the effect a particularly unrivalled example of another art form has on the beholder, even when only expressing an inner emotion. When we consider that this is widely experienced over the entire range of the varied 'cultures’ of our fascinating world it is strange that it is not thought of and developed more seriously. Moreover, it is not unreasonable to acknowledge that the Artistry of Poetry has to be applied conscientiously, even rigorously, and certainly with profound honesty, to achieve the Poetic Art. Also, however well endowed with inspiration, however frequently and freely that may liberate the muse that its sparkling gems cascade joyously into limpid pools, achievement is not an overnight affair, but a long, arduous and yet wonderful courtship between soul and language until they are one. Hence the necessity for consummate care on the part of educators teaching the native tongue, to do so with love and devotion towards the revelation of truth, that their charges may respond with lively expectation.

As pointed out in an interview not long ago, "Life is poetry, and the true expression of it in language is the premier mode of communication." In this medium speech and writing can be uniquely definitive and language reach its true potential.

The debate between free verse, blank verse and their related forms, and the stanzas of rhythm and rhyme of our old masters — which classification might raise a few eyebrows — is still very much alive between moderns and traditionalists; and it has been with a greater or lesser degree of interest since those earlier times when incautious innovators encouraged unskilled tongues to invade those sacred realms where lives the very soul of language. Even then the range of many traditional forms was quite extensive and fascinating, extending the facility for laying before the reader the wisdom of the tale with accurate nuances, highlighting the other senses. Looking back it was this that drew me to its embrace at an early age, often with painful results while labouring long to get 'It’ just right!

Now, of course, examination of the poetic forms today reveals a vastly increased range and a continuing development that lends itself — when applied judiciously — to the yearning of souls for mutual understanding. Moreover, the diversity of the range is extremely helpful, for the choice of form depends on many things. Apart from the subject matter, and the mood and pace and subtle variations of these as the tale develops while maintaining syntax and interest, there is also the poet’s own idiom of life and experience bearing down heavily on the very act of composition, demanding clarity of thought and precision to draw the reader to the totality of the poem, however small or great.

Communication between people — hence language — is so vitally important it is difficult to understand why it does not attract more judicious attention and be practised with more care orally, and in writing. Much greater attention should also be paid to practising the skills of the Poetic Art, making determined efforts to extend our expertise throughout the vast range of its forms. Experience stretches the limits of what is appropriate to the individual need and builds confidence. Moreover, the range will extend with usage, peculiar to the advancement of language itself, for poetry has no other dwelling place. Though distinctive in its myriad of forms it can never be separated from its sister, prose, assuming both receive just and equitable attention.

In prose the poet may readily find the juxtaposition of words of related empathy and consonance in a particular phrase or passage has raised the text into that realm where sound and colour and shape and the very soul of language dwell, arresting the reader in a moment of unparalleled ecstasy. Surely, then, the writer would be wise to let the muse run its course. Caught in its embrace the reader will follow with the understanding heightened.

One would go far in the study of poetry before finding another magnum opus such as the output of Lewis Turco in this specific field, his perspicacity majoring in that essential feature of mankind’s repertoire of talents. This is summed up in a single sentence in his work, The Book Of Forms (page 4), in the paragraph headed The Levels of Poetry. Thus: "Since poetry is the product of the poet who is interested in the vehicle itself, in language as the medium of expression, then poetry is 'the art of language.’" It is here that emphasis must be given to the need for the greatest care that the art be not jeopardized in any way, but protected by all who would aspire to practise it; and we must not be condemnatory, but rather an encouragement to fellow poets that they persevere in an activity that is a thing of joy and immense satisfaction.

When the idea or thought, even in a single word, is to be expressed, albeit to clarify the poet’s own understanding let alone that of other readers (or hearers), its relationship to its neighbours and/or the theme as a whole, needs to be made clear. Hence it is essential that the beloved opus is not bereft of an acknowledged syntax, and that poets be encouraged to review and edit their worthy efforts with thoroughness to ensure that whatever form they adopt the free expression of their thoughts does not reflect a lack of cohesion and compatibility between soul and language. Sentence structure is an essential feature of language and should be evident. It is not peculiar to prose alone, and ought always to be maintained at the highest standard.

There are many exponents of these things among poets, critics, and judges of the artistry displayed, and the aim must ever be to enlighten and heighten the understanding between people, quite apart from the pleasure to the soul penning the thought(s). An earlier Browning — the nineteenth century Robert, master of the Art and of considerable fame — demonstrated his skill in the economy of words used to reveal the verities of life on which his soul was founded. The sound in the rhythm and rhyme, and the allusion to colour in the living things written in simple direct language in his Home Thoughts From Abroad, paint that wonderful picture for us. Thus:

I
"Oh, to be in England
Now that April’s there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England —now!

II
And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge —
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops - at the bent spray's edge -
That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children’s dower —
Far brighter than this gaudy melon flower!"

Are there others? Of course there are. Think not there are but few like he, many are known, distinctive though they be, with parity of artistry. What of Goldsmith, for example, and his The Deserted Village:

"Beyond yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,
There in his mansion, skilled to rule,
The village master taught his little School.
. . . ."

Or today should we neglect the consideration, if but comparatively, of the untried; however rudimentary? Like this writer’s, The Timeless You, for example:

" The years run on and you and me
think: how the days grow short,
and common chores the longer take
and longer chores abort.

As sight grows dim and sounds abate
our fleeting steps slow down,
and summer days the colder get
and winter suns benumb.

The day I first set eyes on you
I thought: gee, what a dish!
There never was another sea
would offer such a fish.

Yet, though the years have taken toll
of youth and vigour both,
your sparkling eyes still wink at me
and catch away my breath."

Matthew J. Browning
And his
Seventy Years On:

It was but a day since
plunging deep the river’s ebb,
from the pier-head mast.

Such was the vision
across those years of sculptured
change around the strand;

when old things were gone
and dawn broke east’s horizon
to harry the night;

and when noon was come
and morning’s things hid beneath
all our yesterdays.

But twilight hailed the
winter sun spatter west-sky’s
clouds with golden fire.

Then did sleep o’ercome
the yearning soul that sought the
youth of yesterday.

Matthew J. Browning.

---

About the author: Matthew was born in December 1926 and reared by loving parents who died in his early teens. He left school at fourteen years of age without formal certification, entered the building trades, then engineering, before being conscripted for military service at home and overseas. When demobilised, he returned to engineering, got married, settled to rearing a family, went to evening classes then college and qualified in engineering subjects and mathematics, eventually teaching the subjects in college and senior schools before retiring. During his youth and adult years he never lost his interest in poetry and writing, and since becoming a 'senior citizen’ has engaged himself in these interests to the extent of being a regular contributor to, and finally editor of a current affairs journal, before retiring for the second time. Now he just loves to write. . . . . . Fifty-nine years (w)holy in wedlock, with a daughter, three sons, seven grandchildren and four great-grandchildren, he declares that "The Guid Man Upstairs has been very kind to him!"

---

Alphabet Soup - Alphabet Poetry Form Variations By Holly Bliss

A - B - C - D - E - F - G ~ gee, are these poetry form variations easy - or are they only deceptively simple?

~A~

The simplest variation of alphabet poetry consists of creating a twenty-six line poem using the alphabet, with lines beginning with consecutive letters of the alphabet from A to Z. If you decide to live a bit more dangerously, you could write a twenty-six line poem and begin your lines from Z to A.

This is a contemporary offshoot of the Abecedarian form. Originally the Abecedarian was created in Hebrew and had a stricter form made up of one hundred seventy-six lines grouped into eight-line stanzas. The Abecedarian was considered sacred - some even made the biblical cut.

~B~

If you'd like more of a challenge, try creating a twenty-six word poem - using the alphabet (in order, either A - Z or Z - A) as each word's beginning letter. The challenge here is to create something coherent.

Another version would be to only use vowels (in order, either frontward or backwards) as your beginning letters of each line.

~C~

An additional variation would be to create a poem (with any line count desired) using a single common letter to begin each line. For example, if your first line begins with the letter "B," then every line after must begin with the letter "B."

For a blending of this variation with an acrostic poem, you could have each stanza's lines have the same unique beginning letter, but then the stanzas would spell out something. For example (showing only the beginning letter formation):

A...
A...
A...

L...
L...
L...

I...
I...
I...

V...
V...
V...

E...
E...
E...

~D~

Finally, my favourite version is the one where a poet takes a letter of the alphabet and studies it. What does it remind you of? Does an "o" make you think of a perfect pearl plucked from the sea? Perhaps you take the point of view of a mugging victim and the end of a gun's barrel is the "o" they can see - all they can see - even long after the crime.

Before we end this article let's answer the question posed at the beginning: Are these poetry form variations easy - or are they only deceptively simple? The answer is both yes and no. The forms are relatively simple, but the challenge is, as always, to create density (layers of meaning) with each word and with each line.

© 2007 Holly Bliss. All Rights Reserved.

About the Author: Using her writing as paint on the canvas of her life, Holly Bliss is an eclectic writer, newsletter editor and an author on http://www.Writing.Com/ which is a site for Poetry.

Alice Meynell - Poet

Alice Meynell was born on 11 October 1847 at Barnes, England, the younger daughter of Thomas and Christina Thompson. Her father was a widower with a son and daughter when he married Christina. He was educated privately and at Trinity College, Cambridge but had no need to pursue a career, thanks to an inheritance from his grandfather. The family travelled and lived a great deal in Europe. They moved to the Ligurian coast when Alice was 4, the family moving house frequently. This country of vineyards and olive groves, bright sunshine and blue sea was the place where Alice and her sister felt most at home as children.

Alice was an intelligent child and spoke both French and English at an early age. The two sisters were educated at home by their father, an enormous influence on Alice in particular. Life was bohemian and free and the children were included in many adult parties and expeditions. Alice read voraciously and at 9 or 10 was engrossed in the works of Dickens, Trollope and Charlotte Bronte and the poetry of Shakespeare, Keats, Tennyson and others.

At this time Alice wrote poems of romance and did submit one for publication, which was rejected. However she continued writing romances and poems and seemed to recognise the urge within her to pass on her thoughts to others.

When she was 17 the family settled for a time in the Isle of Wight. Here she was confirmed and became a regular attender at church. She frequently felt a failure in herself of remaining a little apart from the world, even from her own family, though she loved them deeply. She wanted something more from life which religion might supply. She also felt strongly that as a woman she was prevented from employing her intellect as usefully as she might. Fortunately she now started to create more poetry, though the poems of this period were rather morbid and melancholy.

Meanwhile the family had been moving house, as they so often did, and for a time Alice lived in London, where Ruskin showed an interest in her poetry. In 1868,while in Malvern with her mother, Alice became a Catholic. She felt the need for discipline and a way to shape and control her nature and this she found in the Catholic church and was from then on the basis for all her thinking and writing. She recognised the strengths and weaknesses of her writing and worked towards the economy of words and focused thought that became the hallmark of her later poetry.

After another period in Italy the Thompson family returned to London. Alice sought criticism and advice from people like Allingham and Aubrey de Vere and in 1875 her first book of poems "Preludes", was published. A journalist, Wilfred Meynell, was so impressed by these poems that he wrote to Alice, they became close friends and in April 1877 they were married. Although they had 7 children Alice continued her writing and poetry throughout the remainder of her busy life. Her work was much admired by writers such as de la Mare, Rossetti and Oscar Wilde. She had time, though, for her family and her many friends, including Coventry Patmore and Francis Thompson and was invited to carry out a lecture tour in the United States of America.

Alice Meynell was a sincere and uncompromising writer, eloquent but disciplined and always produced quality rather than quantity. Her strong religious faith underpinned all her work. Although her poems are perhaps not as popular nowadays, at one time she was mentioned as a possible Poet Laureate. She died in 1922 and her final work, "Last Poem" was published in 1923.

Second Childhood

Do you remember any of the nursery rhymes you heard when you were little? I know I do, and recently I have been looking again at some of them and discovering a few reasons why they stay so long in my memory. Partly, I expect, it is because our minds, as children, are so receptive, and like sponges, absorb ideas and impressions so well. But the rhymes themselves when looked at again in later years, have a lot to offer, such as:

* Vivid imagery and imagination
* Rhymes to aid memory
* Rhythm
* Memorable characters
* Story telling

All these elements combine, in some nursery rhymes to produce very interesting poetry. The words may be simple, but the overall effect can give pleasure, touch the emotions, or even in some rhymes produce an atmosphere of tension or threat. Here I am thinking in particular of two which affected me deeply as a child and which I still find quite disturbing. 'Oranges and Lemons’ in its final lines about the candle to light you to bed, and the chopper to chop off your head refers to the unhappy fate of felons in London’s gaols many years ago. The other rhyme , 'A man of words and not of deeds’ builds to a rather gruesome climax, but somehow it is one of my favourites.

There are rhymes which are progressive, adding one layer on another. In 'The House that Jack Built' it is necessary to remember the preceding lines as one progresses through the verses. This rhyme has a particularly interesting rhythm and cast of characters.

There are rhymes too built around specific characters, 'Little Miss Muffet', 'Little Boy Blue', 'Jack Sprat' and 'Little Jack Horner', where the giving of names fixes the verse more firmly in the mind.

For a compact, economical rhyme it is hard to beat 'Solomon Grundy', whose entire lifetime is summed up in a few lines. This is in contrast to 'There was a Crooked Man' where the effect of the rhyme depends on the constant repetition of the word 'crooked'.

I feel that nursery rhymes have an important part to play in opening and preparing young minds to appreciate more complicated poetry as adults. Quite apart from this virtue, they give a great deal of pleasure. Certainly, I find revisiting them a lot of fun.

I hope that they will continue to flourish and that they will never go out of fashion.

Mizzmouse