remember emerald grass
and the hot sky zinging
above a field laid out
to the left of a train line
a cloth unfurled
that curls to a valley
steep-walled with bergs
feels like the bluegreen ocean
in that it’s hard to know
whether the strongest desire
is to be in it, or observe
back once again
emotions shot through with
brine-cool air from outside
the world full of birds
and vines across the window
like it’s been a hundred years
My Faerie Queene is Carabosse
I somehow took her mantle
Bad fairy-witch by whom we lost
Our beauty to a spindle
For what use mine her blonde airhead
When I am clever, dark and cruel
Tho she may wish she stayed in bed
When she meets the big-prick fool
Who blunders in, destroying slumber, makes her go to school
Today’s prompt was as follows: Because today is the ninth day of NaPoWriMo, I’d like to challenge you to write a nine-line poem. Although the fourteen-line sonnet is often considered the “baseline” form of verse in English, Sir Edmund Spenser wrote The Faerie Queene using a nine-line form of his own devising, and poetry in other languages (French, most particularly) has always taken advantage of nine-line forms.
I don’t know too much about Spenser’s Faerie Queene and I think I flunked out on the iambic pentameter. But hey ho… I’m thinking about fairy tales and darkness and why not follow me on twitter @Carabosse !? 😉
clairevetica 