Archive for September, 2011

Brit Poetry Assignment –

Posted in Uncategorized on September 30, 2011 by willard43

I recently had to read a bunch of Rime royale, Ottava rima poems, which were fun, and then write one choosing one of four forms. I wrote this one, which is based on Keats’ “The Eve of St. Agnes”, which is employs a Spenserian Stanza. Fun stuff as these stanzas are nine line, pentameter until the last line, which is hexameter. The rhyme scheme is supposed to be [ababbcbcc]. I gave it a shot:

The Fatherly Bond
You were born in the middle of the night,
And I had never seen nor ever dared,
To guess the Gods could shine such a light.
What good fate that from your absence spared,
I’ll not want for familial love shared,
Nor from expression of fatherly pride,
Will I dare falter to be so prepared,
Or ever hesitant to gently chide,
If we should ‘er be forced to put our bond aside.

I hope that as you grow and change your ways,
You will never forget our binding ties,
Or when you depart from our humble home,
You’ll keep our bond with you no matter decries,
And guard it like I did for your son’s eyes.
For now take this poem for what it’s worth,
Read it to yourself when your memory flies,
And never forget in all of this earth,
There is nothing I’ve cherished except for your birth.


The Myth of the Real

Posted in Uncategorized on September 18, 2011 by willard43

I don’t see the real anymore
The view is skewed
The lie’s too real and in my face
Everything tastes like the market
It takes a shovel to dig down deeper
For every bit of breath
For every kernel
For every salty swallow of the true ocean
The pinch is mandatory
I saw a copyright in my sleep
As the dream’s been sold
And the lie is told
The petty have the power and they wield it like carpet bombs
But I was born before the bar scan and can run naked in the night
Free from those sunless lumens
The guiltless rads of uncouth sands
I can still taste the loam of unsullied earth
I can still taste the blood from the blow
I can still taste the new wine
I can’t see it but I can feel it in my bones…My genes…My soul…My marrow
I keep the real, with zeal, in my heel, to feel, when I reel, round the keel of my meal
And I am unbroken.