“Don’t believe the chaffinch,” my mother told me, hands slack in linen tangles. “They know so little of our world, so little of your world, so little of any world men tread. Imagine always looking up, or always looking down, never along stranger scopes. Can you imagine a world without level understanding, without eye-to-eye, without seeing as another person does? As another person can? How can the chaffinch think? They have no lessons, no masters, no books! Their nature divides them from us, but we divine their nature, we divine our own! And might we mistake in our proclaims and could a chaffinch be other, other than what we divine if there were books?” Written for The Daily Prompt – Surreal
My dearest Felicity, I have given up on Wisdom. Strange as it may seem; Wisdom and I are simply incompatible and my apologies- But you must choose. I would advise you to choose wisely but I am far too selfish to mean such a thing. Yours in foolishness and nonsense Geoffrey.
Punching you in the throat is, perhaps, predominate in, pushing away all those other thoughts that play at high speed acrobatics in my head, and pre-determine the welcome you will receive post-opening your mouth. This is Day Three for NaPoWrimo, and I decided that I was going to write a fixed form poem and that I was going to write a Pleiades.
In December I thought I might attempt the December Form Challenge. Unfortunately I only managed to complete three poems for the month, due mainly to a title wave of university assignment. So for anyone who is interested. Here are my three fixed formed poems all the way from December. Lost in Wishing I took my dream and threw it down the well, Where I had tossed coins and wishes for you, Poured my hope in the silence as it fell… When I once thought that fairy tales were true. I wanted silver knights on proud horses, Godmothers, white mice and pumpkin coaches… But then you wanted to fight the dragon, And what was our future became fiction. (A Rispetto) Make Me Mistress of Lies and Goddess of Chaos My brightly burning ice giant; god of fire, My silver tongued lie-smith with weighted whispers— Will you still love me on Ragnarök’s byre? When your children wage war on their elders? For the nine realms will be nothing but chaos, And each will sit back to watch the destruction …