Pantoum-mimes (Algonquin's Table challenge)

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Doreen Peri
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Re: Pantoum-mimes (Agonquin's Table challenge)

Post by Doreen Peri » September 29th, 2010, 4:42 pm

I wrote this pantoum in 1999. I think I wrote about 4 of them back then. This is the only one I found. It's probably terrible. I haven't read it in years. I was participating in a poetry format class online on another site. We worked on several formats. Sonnets, will forever be my favorite. I think of poetry formats as playing scales on the piano or something. Puzzle poetry, I call it. (My own neologism). The formats are good exercises... but as Charlie Parker said... "And then, when you finally get up there on the bandstand, forget all that and just wail.!" (I'm more fond of off the cuff jazz poetry)... Anyway, without further ado, here's the pantoum I wrote in 1999. Though it doesn't fit exactly with the pattern you're describing here.... it fits with the pattern I was taught in the online workshop I took. Perhaps there are several patterns of pantoum.

Disappearing Act - a pantoum

Death is the black Magician spinning evil on a plate.
We soon become Death's disappearing act.
His wand waves wild abandon in a finite figure eight,
Defining our infinity with fact.

We soon become Death's disappearing act
As he displays his roguish truth sardonically, and smiles.
Not recognizing him 'til harsh impact,
When Death devours our inward breath with wicked winsome guile.

Soon, Death reveals his lucid truth sarcastically, and smiles.
We cower in our seats below the stage.
'Til he devours existence with his wicked winsome guile,
And turns to us and laughs with vicious rage.

We cower in our seats below the stage,
And beg and pray and plead for life to hold on still, yet Death
Soon turns to us and laughs with vicious rage,
And then he hypnotizes us and inhales our last breath.

We beg and pray and plead for life to hold on still, yet Death
Just lingers, as if blameless, in a play,
And then he hypnotizes us and inhales our last breath,
'Til soon we realize we've gone away.

Death lingers, as if blameless, in a play.
His wand waves wild abandon in a finite figure eight,
'Til soon we realize we've gone away.
Death is the black Magician spinning evil on a plate.

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