A very similar form to the Byr a thoddaid. It has any number of four line stanzas. Each stanza consists of a nine syllable couplet a. a. and a toddaid. The toddaid has a ten syllable line and the second line has six syllables.
In the ten syllable line the main rhyme b. b. is found before the end of the line and the last syllable of that line links the six syllable line by alliteration, assonance or secondary rhyme. There is no set order for the couplets.

Here is the form layout for either variation.

x x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x b x x c.
x c x x x b


x x x x x x b x x c.
x c x x x b
x x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x x x a

In the example below, Gloria butchers the English language to give a zany, but accurate example of the Gwawdodyn. Don't forget to cownt 'em.

A....load of Silly Bull

Nine silly bulls stand in line with, splat,
Nine other silly bulls, a cowplat.
Now ten silly bulls. Six more to come?
Ahhh, sum…that’s dirty floor.

Gloria Carpenter


Nine syllables stand in a line with, split
Nine other syllables, a couplet.
Now ten syllables. Six more to come?
The sum .... that's thirty four.

Gwawdodyn Posts

Deborah Bel

And the rivers have run
To grow a little more

Gloria Carpenter

Scarabun City Annual Picnic
Selene Reflects

Ryter Roethicle

Forty Two and a Half

Gloria and Ryter

Response to Torment

Deborah Bel

And the rivers have run

Perhaps I should speak of grieving hearts
The friends, lovers, that river did part
To bring forth a vast and mighty ravine
Obscene in wretched sighs.

Those living places, of births and deaths,
Where the sunlight plays and moonlight crept.
To squander time on the building of that
Would mask a precious gift.

Shown by its depth, all the floods it held,
Displaying its marks of sorrows felled,
No need to dredge it, no longer required,
That pyre, colder than hot.

The highest, cragged peaks look down on this,
Their virgin tops still crowned with clear ice.
As long as I've known them, rivers have run
And sung their song again.

There are still come rocks to catch its path,
Though ancient rivers will swell and pass
And all do tread in due time to the sea,
As she reclaims her child.

But fleeting mortals will see it not
These ephemeral moments so small,
For trees that stand and line the ravines
Foresee only a mile.

The river courses, swiftly and sure
Wide azure veins are now running pure.
Speak of them in reverence, shattered husks,
Which dug that vast abyss.



Ahh, Freedom. My capacity for choice,
As boisterous as bees,
Free from restraints, to choose ones' own path.
Is membership an iconoclast?

Must your existance blast institutions?
Or shun instead of blend?
Can you not weave your magic between
Differing movements of symphonies?

Freedom, Oh my lover and tormentor.
Restore my wish to dance.
Rest your hand unhindered on my head
While through the wakes of bound notes you tread.



A misleading phrase, is separation
Potions of distilled bliss
By definitions, to set apart
To differentiate from my heart.

Perhaps acceptance would have been better
Insured a soothing salve
Gotten past the ideologies
Eliminated dissenting seas.

With acceptance, I hold no more than you
The two, equal value to bestow
Preventing us from intended harm
By the use of a religious charm

Make no law that requires a worship
For 'tis my own pyre
To have and to hold that which is dear
To live and to die without their fear.


To grow a little more

It is not enough to propose I care
For that speaks lack of view
Would that I give you moments of peace
Would that your pain may temper and cease

The pure agony which bled from your pen
Did send a message met
With my sympathy, most certainly,
But where was language of empathy?

Would that I could so understand your pain
My plain words could not hurt
My speech would give you only solace
Healing would be the mode of my voice.

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Gloria Carpenter

Scarabun City Annual Picnic

I will wonder where my summer went
How all my leisurely days were spent
Enough of sitting here (although it's fun
I'm done, Yikes! August calls!


Selene Reflects

Once when eyes welled up and lost their spark
starlight caught each drop in velvet dark,
in robes that fell from shadow of Selene,
unseen by one so sad.

Wondering why each night she spent alone
in arms of emptiness, love unknown,
afraid to give her heart to new embrace
in case it broke in two.

No soft words to call her, "Come to bed,
snuggle in beside and lay your head
upon the pillow close to mine, a kiss..."
She missed this love of two.

In dreams she wandered as a child, lost,
abandoned, discarded, cast out. Tossed
in tumbled sheets that trapped her thoughts, unkind,
reminding her of him.

Goddess, palest moon, sent dawning dew,
to open up her eyes, tell her true
how loneliness is shared by starry night,
how light reflects a tear.

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Ryter Roethicle

Forty Two and a Half

Don’t pity the sun because of rain Before too long she will shine again And witness her travel across the sky See day die and marvel. Marvel how you see each morn arise Feel the day waiting with each surprise And come the darkness that heralds night time The moons climb brings tiredness. Tiredness should be welcomed as a gift Your body is winding down as you shift Into a state of pleasant dreams and sleep. Still keep counting sunbeams.

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Gloria and Ryter


Sweeping up shards of a broken heart
Too easily broken now we’re apart
Once again I descend within my mind
Trying to find the end.

Mind and heart once linked in unity
One now broke, the other is free
To torture time and again with memories
I still see, all in vain.

If only there was a switch to life
That in turning could stop all this strife
And I could walk away and live again

Break the chain, start the day.

Ryter Roethicle


Response to Torment

Break the chain, start the day, end this anguish.
Banish these thoughts, befriend
light reflecting from each mirrored shard.
Misery is easy, courage hard.

Through labyrinths of shattered, scattered parts
it starts, this journey that
seems to wend and wind forever long,
each bend cautions, challenging the strong.

So often journeys end inside this maze,
lost days and nights, a sin,
for what is life ~ to live, love!
The secret lies in soaring above.

How often do we talk of taking flight?
The height of freedom. Dove
and eagle know peace, serenity.
Their eyes understand eternity.

Instead of plodding on, let go, spread wings!
Those strings of chains, forget ~
They do not exist; we make our strife.
Imagine that! There’s the switch... To life!

Gloria Carpenter

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