The Constanza; Poetic Bloomings invites us to try this form. (The error in this poem is my first lines are not an independent poem....the second stanza is the glitch)) The Constanza, created by Connie Marcum Wong, consists of five or more 3-line stanzas. Each line has a set meter of eight syllables. The first lines of all the stanzas can be read successively as an independent poem, with the rest of the poem weaved in to express a deeper meaning. The first lines convey a theme written in monorhyme, while the second and third lines of each stanza rhyme together.
She falls, silver; a sweeping sigh
From founts of low-flung pewter cloud
Drenching the winter-weary shroud
She sings; a melody where I
Am seized with a sweet-surging hurt
To bathe my hands in garden dirt
She sparkles; sequin-studded sky
Embellishing each blade of grass
With nature’s froth of liquid glass
She murmurs, ‘farmer, do not cry
God holds spring’s phial in His will
Un-clenching frost-bound ridge and rill’
She laughs; a sassy, splashy high
For in euphoric aftermath
Wild blooms ensconce the muddy path
She croons; a soulful lullaby
Beyond the porch her passion streams
As rain-song rivers kiss our dreams
© Janet Martin
Let's Try Again...
My love; will you still love me true?
When youth and middle-age fall prey
To ticking clocks and locks of gray?
And will you murmur 'I love you'
As if we were still seventeen
Without a clue what 'love' will mean
When I am old, bent by love's due
Will you still kindly take my hand
And whisper oh, babe, ain't love grand?
Will we gaze down past's avenue
With hearts humble and meekly awed
That we remain, by grace of God?
When we are old, will love imbue
Each day with sweet and sacred truth
Renewing vows made in our youth?
Each step; will we be one or two
When we are old and frail and weak?
Will you still kiss my wrinkled cheek?
And will we whisper 'I love you'
When we are old; will we be mean
Or will we still be seventeen?