For Thanksgiving Day, I invited the poets in my Dragon Common Room to celebrate each other in verse—specifically, in Swinburne roundels—as a way of giving thanks for the work we have done together these past five months. We have finished our “Dunciad” (a.k.a. “The Centrism Games”) and are waiting for readers’ responses before we revise. So it seemed appropriate to revisit the verse form in which I invited Milo’s chat to celebrate him at the beginning of this year. Can you remember January 2020? It seems a lifetime ago.
HOW TO WRITE A SWINBURNE ROUNDEL
11 lines—nine lines having the same number of syllables, plus a refrain after the third and last lines. The refrain must be identical with the beginning of the first line AND rhyme with the second line.
Rhyme scheme: A B A R / B A B / A B A R, where R=first half of line 1, rhyming with B
1
Dragons in the chat write roundels for fun,
Training in meter to challenge their wit.
Rhyming for Joy of the Word they have sung,
Dragons in the chat.
God made the heavens and earth, crying “Fiat!”
He breathed out the seas, gave light to the Sun.
Angels and beasts sing out: “He’s a giant!”
God made a woman to bear him a Son.
Clothed in the Sun, she stamped on the serpent.
With angel warriors her battle was won,
Dragons in the chat.
2
Oh Sonnet’s Son! You have the perfect name
For taming all those wild words just for fun
Creating beauty with no hint of pain
Oh Sonnet’s Son!
No matter what the topic, once begun
Your lovely lines put my own work to shame
And force me to acknowledge you’re the one
I look up to, and wish that I might claim
Those finely crafted lines as mine, dear Son
Your passion shines through all your work the same
Oh Sonnet’s Son!
3
My Brother is King over all He surveys.
He moves the Earth; at His caress She sings;
Her heart given to, breathing-sighing for,
My Brother is King.
She rises, a tower under His gaze
And He clothes her in splendor and glory
As Eve before Adam, the Earth displays—
All the goodness my Brother uncovering.
O Image Divine! In His Father’s ways,
Moving, Building, Imbuing, Endowing,
My brother is King.
4
Professing her Joy of teaching her dragons to sing,
In poetic voices from Shytown in Illinois,
They wrote epic couplets of Popish not Alexandrine
Professing her Joy.
Her dragons were matched up in couples which she then deployed
To dig through the treasures of info that research could bring,
Instructing them, “Play with your words as if they are toys.”
Just like a fellowship journeying for the One Ring
Telling tales of their knights at a concluding foy
She gathered them round at the end and gave blessings
Professing her Joy.
5
His name is Jan, and he ran from this chat
I wished he’d stay and do all that he can
Wignats and Libtards I wished he’d combat
His name is Jan
There must be a reason he could not stand
To show us where we should be and where we are at
To demonstrate to us a house not built on sand
In every class next to me that poet sat
Offering wisdom and thoughts and guidance so grand
I’d forgive his deserting if he’d just come back
His name is Jan
6
Hear the sound of a wise and truthful king.
I’ve never seen a man like him around.
To celebrate his honor, I will sing.
Hear the sound!
A thinker’s journey covers many grounds,
But ev’ry word he says is int’resting.
Intriguing are the ways his words are wound.
An argument is delicate as string.
But Carbon Mic, he’s worthy of the crown:
You’ll hear the words of wisdom that he brings.
Hear the sound!
7
You’re just too extreme, to all the profane
Everyone is an Edgelord with a meme
But you pray to our LORD the deathsbane,
You’re just too extreme
On the internet nobody wants to be seen,
Doxx and revile and forever chicane,
Yet you cling to the rosary of our Queen
The City of God you build in the online domain,
Trolling devotion your style is Augustine,
Daring, declaring in chat rooms Christ’s reign
You’re just too extreme
We will be starting new verse forms around the New Year, if you want to join us in learning to rhyme.
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F.B.