Ocarina – Rhymed

I have no idea who created this form. Thanks to Sara Gosa of Allpoetry.com for bringing it to my attention.
I can only tell you that it was published in the January 25, 1912 edition of New Age, and was written by Author Tulloch Cull.

To Anna Pavlova (Ocarina)
(In her dance “Le Cygne ” Musique de Saint-Saëns.)
I.
There came to me a vision of sweet song
Borne faintly forward on melodious streams,
A white Chimaera such as stirs the dreams
Of men, who sleep in solitudes and long
To people the dead wastes with strange desire
And breathe between the lips of ancient Death
Stretched mummified in deserts that new breath
That should revive them with its living fire.
II.
White was the vision, white as fiercest fire
And paler far its face than pallid Death,
Begotten of that brood, the Swan’s desire
Raised from frail Leda with its hissing breath.
And as it came its superhuman song
Sang of all those, whom wide relentless streams
Divide from their beloved, towards whom they long,
But whom they ne’er may clasp except in dreams.
III.
They strain to one another in their dreams
But never hear their lovers’ silent song
Pass spectrelike with gliding feet along
The halls of Sleep to Lethe’s stealthy streams
Till conies Old Age, a fouler foe than Death,
To mar the house of their divine desire
And smother with white ashes their young fire
Stifling their bodies’ perfumes with his breath.
IV.
Who of us mortals with ephemeral breath
That saw the vision, did not straight desire
To pass from perfect happiness to death
A holocaust of joy within the fire beneath
That from your cloudlike eyelids streams.
Having for elegy your supreme song
I would have died your death and passed to dreams
On that white breast, for which I longed so long.
V.
Half goddess and half swan, you seemed to long
With yearning eyes for those immortal dreams
Of far Olympus, where Peneus streams
Through Tempe’s hallowed vale. Yet in the song
Of feet and face and form I saw the fire
Of love for men, whose evanescent breath
Lends charm to wayward pleasures, watched by Death,
Who casts a glamour on short-lived desire.
VI.
All mortal sufferings and vain desire
Wept from your eyes and shook your tortured breath.
Yea, goddess though you were, the immortal fire
That shone from your white shape grew dim as Death.
I questioned of your Sorrow-Did you long
For Youth’s brief summer passed in rhythmic dreams
By winding ways of water, where the song
Of many birds mixed with the murmuring streams?
VII.
But though no answer pierced the plash of streams
Your arms that wavered swan-like seemed to long
And beckon for some mystery, which song
Might not reveal lying hid beyond our dreams.
Was it eternal youth, that your last breath
Invoked with prayers so passionate, that fire
Rekindled in those eyes, whose last desire
Was unto life, till clanked the feet of Death?
VIII.
For as you felt the drear approach of Death,
Your limbs relaxed and from your eyes the fire
Fled fainting forth : You drew one sobbing breath
That shook your shuddering wings, and your desire
Quailed before Death : Your hair, where darkness dreams,
Where Moon and Stars hold festival along
With queenly Night, fell forward in dark streams
About your face, and silenced was your song.
ENVOY.
Anna, my dreams find voice within the song
That from the fire of your sweet footsteps streams.
Though dreams and breath and song may pass along
Death’s ways, yet my desire defieth Death.
Author Notes
This poem appears in the January 25, 1912 edition of New Age. Found at library.brown .edu

Pasted from http://allpoetry.com/poem/11882810-To-Anna-Pavlova–Ocarina–by-A.-Tulloch-Cull

The Ocarina – Rhymed
A sestina discipline using 8 lines per verse and a 4 line enjoy for a 68 line poem

MUST be used to write a rhyming poem.
Its structure schematic is
12345678
86571243
31426587
75682134
43218765
57864312
24137856
68753421
With the envoy:
I corrected the occurrence of the words to create complete rhyme which the sample poem did not possess.
31 / 28 / 74 / 65Giving couplet internal rhyme and alternating end-rhyme

Rhyme scheme: Alternating envelope and alternate rhyme.
Rhyme pattern: 
1st abbacddc
2nd cdcdabab
3rd baabdccd
4th dcdcbaba
5th abbacddc
6th cdcdabab
7th baabdccd
8th dcdcbaba
Envoy:
(b/a)
(b/c)
(d/a)
(d/c)

 

Related forms: Bina, Canzone, Decrina, Newman Sestina, OcarinaOcarina – RhymedQuartina, Quintina, Sestina, Sestina – RhymedSidney’s Double Sestina, Tritina 

My Example

Christians for Breakfast (Ocarinai – Rhymed)

When people meet for breakfast just to pray
you know already they’ve a certain mind
a homogeneous group (all of one kind)
with similar beliefs upon display.
While all may not attend with spirit pure,
proclaiming Christ as lord still seems the rule.
Electorate they think they have to fool;
avowing unity makes men secure

I do not need to pray to be secure
I need a leader capable to rule.
He must embrace the tainted and the pure
and not in public act like such a fool.
The fact that all denominations pray
and deem they’re right, brings logic to my mind.
Is faith a no-lose place in which to play?
I denigrate them not, but I’m just kind.

I tolerate religions that are kind
and ask for things of goodness when they pray
but not those bringing evil into play
It’s dominance of others that I mind.
It’s easy to endorse the golden rule
and teaching benefits of staying pure
but Islam’s aim is clearly to secure
a dominance envisioned by a fool.

Now president Barrack has played the fool.
In race nor religion is Barry pure
so he had attributes to let him rule
as mediator making folks secure,
instead he’s pumped up strife in people’s mind.
Attacking Christians who came here to pray
for focusing on Moslems who aren’t kind-
revenge for the crusades is just fair play

By bringing those crusades now into play
(which were the Churches own response in kind)
to suppression of Christian life and mind
The Christians found it did no good to pray.
Nor will it ever. Men to be secure
must charge with force against the raging fool
who deems a pretend Caliphate must rule,
and fantasizes gift of virgins pure.

When extant spirituality’s pure,
one needs no fables fostered by a fool.
Connection to something makes one secure,
requiring no support from dogma’s rule.
A church is often but a place to play
at being good, where one can get a kind
of forgiveness for oft becoming prey
to urges which slip unbidden into mind

I don’t need dogma policing my mind
I know what’s right in thought and work and play,
and to know that, I never had to pray.
I really doubt that dogma makes one kind.
One’s character makes him a prince or fool.
Without a heaven I feel quite secure,
and fearing hell does not keep people pure
Dispense with dogma, let your conscious rule

The Koran preaches violence as the rule
all power to the Imam to secure
Though raised in Islam, Barry thought he’d fool
the public spouting eloquence and pure
nonsense about a change of different kind
none thought he’d bring religion into play.
Does evil infiltration come to mind?
‘Twould not be bad if all he did was pray

I did not mind the breakfast meet to pray;
‘Twas less than kind to put such hate in play
He fosters pure dissent, the bloody fool
Men will secure themselves from Islam rule.

© Lawrencealot – February 9, 2015

Ocarina

Ocarina
Type:
Structure, Metrical Requirement, End Word Requirement, Isosyllabic
Description:
Sestina with eight lines per verse for a total of 68 lines.
Attributed to:
Bob Newman
Origin:
England
Schematic:
12345678
85274163
34567812
27416385
56781234
41638527
78123456
63852741
With the envoy:
12 / 34 / 56 / 78
Rhythm/Stanza Length:
8
Line/Poem Length: 
68

Thanks to Charles L. Weatherford.

Note: on Feb 7, 2015, it was brought to my attention Ocarina existed in 1912 with a rhyming schematic.

I will interpret the schematic and list it separately as  Ocarina – Rhymed.

Example Poem
Our Special Place     (Ocarina)
We both embrace this very special place.
When we feel stressed we come for play and rest
it seems sedate and wills all woes to wait.
Don’t you abhor the daily quest for more,
the circular rat-race, the hectic pace
that takes away the willingness to play?
I feel no need to cuss and join the rush
to join the game without our taking aim.
When first we came seclusion was our aim.
Here is a space with tranquil quiet pace
Who would have guessed that just by seeking rest
we’d find a lust for nature’s thrilling rush.
We set out to explore the place, and more,
each other’s face, less lined when in this place.
Most everyday we find that we must play
and let the freight of daily commerce wait.
Arriving late, I caused for you a wait,
but you weren’t sore at all; there’s so much more
encasing one in splendor that the pace
of life gives way and waiting too,  is play.
Your sudden blush invited me to rush
for thoughts un-tame had warned of my aim.
With no disgrace we sanctified the place
as we progressed from urgency, to rest
Upon your breast I’ll lay my hand and rest
among the brush, no longer in a rush.
We swim, explore, embrace in lust once more-
enjoy the pace afforded by this place,
the air’s sachet, the squirrels near, at play.
When calmed by mate the world can always wait-
no other game shares a more lofty aim
than kissing face and slowing down our pace.
At home a flash of lace turns up the pace
at end of day and says you want to play,
but here no such a proxy starts my rush;
natural nudeness claims our bodies’ aim.
My fingers trace pathways to everyplace
where I have pressed my lips and all the rest
I plan to sate with out delay, but wait
we both adore the wait; we’ll wait some more.
The forest floor, one blanket, nothing more
this is our base that turns this tranquil place
with water’s spray into a place to play
and actuate our fantasies and wait
and frame thoughts seeking any greater aim.
There is no race and we both love this pace,
though I’m molested ’til I need a rest.
I would have to blush were it not a rush.
There’s still the push to weekly join the rush
and play that game which is commerce’s aim.
We chase the credits in the market place
Though not obsessed we act just like the rest
and that equates to working while we wait
the week-end to restore ourselves once more.
It’s not the case that we can’t stand the pace
of life’s buffet- we just take time to play.
It’s quite cliché you must mix work and play-
accommodate the mundane while you wait
for fame and wealth if that ‘s part of your aim.
Yet you can brace your soul at any pace
and live with zest if you take time to rest.
Avoid the crush resulting from the rush
and go explore a place where less is more
and in our case that means our special place.
This is a place where both of us may rest,
where waters wait and pause before their more
determined pace resumes, and we can play
without the rush that sometimes seems our aim.
© Lawrencealot – January 10, 2014
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