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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Music >> ID #1724801 |
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A bit of history.
An experiment with a Moiré form, after a recent Poetry Newsletter by Northernwrites I've written a Shakespearean Sonnet, abba, cddc, effe, gg and rearranged the lines so the poem has twelve and not fourteen lines. Thus the rhymes do not fall at the end of each line, but at the end of each group of five iambs. In happenstance I dream of broken strings. Upon my bedroom walls they etch in shadow, patterned lights of silence; my useless bow, a strange companion, strokes a heart that sings no more of freedom’s sweet refrain. Alas, my spray of tears do not cajole the cello’s song-abounding sound so strong yet mellow. I mourn its spritely dance, its just caress. I cannot break this songlessness — I burn. At length this nightmare power wavers thin and morning sunlight floods the deep chagrin. Now sadness in my soul shall not return. “But troubadour, you only dreamed good-bye!” While soft in verse my cello sings — I sigh. the cello’s sonnet [2010.14.11…a] Written for "a little bit of poetry contest "
© Copyright 2010 alfred booth, wanbli ska (UN: troubadour at Writing.Com).
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