Write a duplex

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Continuing the discussion from Pulitzer Prize Winner Jericho Brown's "Invention" (poems and analysis):

Quote is from Jericho Brown. I don’t know the right way to quote a quote. So it looks like the quote is from judytuna here.

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An example from American Poetry Review – Poems

Jericho Brown

Duplex (I begin with love)

I begin with love, hoping to end there.

I don’t want to leave a messy corpse.

 

       I don’t want to leave a messy corpse

       Full of medicines that turn in the sun.

 

Some of my medicines turn in the sun.

Some of us don’t need hell to be good.

 

       Those who need least, need hell to be good.

       What are the symptoms of *your* sickness?

 

Here is one symptom of my sickness:

Men who love me are men who miss me.

 

       Men who leave me are men who miss me

       In the dream where I am an island.

 

In the dream where I am an island,

I grow green with hope.  I’d like to end there.

Oh, I see @judytuna has included a couple more, and how to mark them up in markdown at Pulitzer Prize Winner Jericho Brown's "Invention" (poems and analysis). :slight_smile:

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A ghazal is composed of couplets, five or more. The couplets may have nothing to do with one another except for the formal unity derived from a strict rhyme and rhythm pattern.

A ghazal in English observes the traditional restrictions of the form:

Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell tonight?
Whom else from rapture’s road will you expel tonight?

Those “Fabrics of Cashmere—” “to make Me beautiful—”
“Trinket”— to gem– “Me to adorn– How– tell”— tonight?

I beg for haven: Prisons, let open your gates–
A refugee from Belief seeks a cell tonight.

God’s vintage loneliness has turned to vinegar–
All the archangels– their wings frozen– fell tonight.

Lord, cried out the idols, Don’t let us be broken
Only we can convert the infidel tonight.

Mughal ceilings, let your mirrored convexities
multiply me at once under your spell tonight.

He’s freed some fire from ice in pity for Heaven.
He’s left open– for God– the doors of Hell tonight.

In the heart’s veined temple, all statues have been smashed
No priest in saffron’s left to toll its knell tonight.

God, limit these punishments, there’s still Judgment Day–
I’m a mere sinner, I’m no infidel tonight.

Executioners near the woman at the window.
Damn you, Elijah, I’ll bless Jezebel tonight.

The hunt is over, and I hear the Call to Prayer
fade into that of the wounded gazelle tonight.

My rivals for your love– you’ve invited them all?
This is mere insult, this is no farewell tonight.

And I, Shahid, only am escaped to tell thee–
God sobs in my arms. Call me Ishmael tonight.

— Agha Shahid Ali

I’m working my way through poetry; future readings on “sonnet” and “blues poem”. :slight_smile:

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