Hello friends,
Three poems this week, in three different forms. Enjoy! (And if you do, please consider supporting my work by purchasing either The Robots of Babylon or my omnibus edition Knit Ink (and Other Poems).)
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This first poem is a pantoum in iambic tetrameter:
WINTERSONG
The colours of a cloud at night,
when melted by the marble moon,
fall colder than the coldest white
of snow on sober afternoons.
When melted by the marble moon,
the darkness dies and takes the light
of snow on sober afternoons
upon that black and bitter height.
The darkness dies and takes the light,
until its stars no more are strewn
upon that black and bitter height,
as winter sings her tender tune.
Until its stars no more are strewn,
the colours of a cloud at night,
as winter sings her tender tune,
fall colder than the coldest white.
The next poem is a villanelle in iambic pentameter:
THE LITERATURE OF STARS
The Moon becomes a question mark, with Mars
below its waxing crescent arc, tonight.
Let’s contemplate the literature of stars:
Andromeda is penning dark grimoires
(her spells are full of heat, but barely bright) —
the Moon becomes a question mark with Mars.
Now, Libra’s writing enigmatic noirs,
while Leo crafts a parody with bite.
Let’s contemplate the literature of stars.
The upper blackness hides Orion’s scars,
yet buckles beam with tales of gallant might.
The Moon becomes a question mark, with mars.
Although they speak a language far from ours,
and many write their words in buried light,
let’s contemplate the literature of stars.
Because their astral epic often jars
with all those ancient legends we recite,
the Moon becomes a question mark with Mars....
Let’s contemplate the literature of stars.
Finally, a Shakespearean sonnet in iambic pentameter. This poem is also composed of perfectly anagrammed lines:
ANAGRAM-SONNET FOR JORGE LUIS BORGES
The library — and the boundless forking paths —
Asterion’s keep, by hold and half-truth, brings;
its half-sprung blood here taken in dry baths
of Labyrinth, blank shrouds, repeated things....
In alephs, earths: The first, long bound by dark,
turns bays, a prank of shore, the blinded light —
its harbours blend the fine and ghostly park,
the sharply blurred banditos’ sneak of night.
Then Orbis Tertius, flaked by hand, harps long:
the fold unbars, births theory speaking land —
its one full breath and spark the hybrid song;
the flared, sprung Labyrinth. The book is sand.
Graphs robe, as truth and Tlön — “I” fleshed by ink.
By half-sound, Borges’ thread, paths interlink.
This is completely off topic, but yesterday I was contemplating the phrase 'Lucifer's merciful dulcimer'
Dulcimer is a near-anagram of merciful, with the syllables swapped
Lucifer is an anagram of merciful without the first letter
lu-
-ful
Dul-
-ci-
-ci-
-ci-
-fer
mer-
-mer
I wonder if one could make something pantoum-like at the level of the syllable.