NaPoWriMo Day Twenty-One

Day Twenty-One of NaPoWriMo, write a poem around a minor character from a fairy tale. I wasn’t sure what to do with this prompt but then the idea for the following poem struck and I decided to try and write that. I’ve noticed I use repetition quite a lot in my poems so I’m going to try and avoid it for the next few I think.

Also! Today is National Poem In Your Pocket Day!

The Witch’s Gardener

The witch’s gardener was too old to remember his name.

He sat by the turnips,

stamped his feet against the dirt

and tried to rattle the soil from the cracks in his boots.

That was about all he was good for these days.

When the man came over the wall,

searching for rampion,

he stayed where he was,

hunched a little further into his collar

and let his body melt into the clutter by the potting shed.

Became one with the terracotta, the twine and the mulch.

When the witch asked about a thief

he shrugged.

Blamed ‘rabbits perhaps?’

more mutter than question.

He didn’t see the man come back,

he didn’t hear the witch’s deal,

he didn’t see the stolen child.

He let his body melt into the clutter by the potting shed

and when it was quieter,

let himself whistle

as he tended the veg.

The witch’s garden was too old to remember his name.

There was no one to tell it to anyway.

The Stone Men

Nicholas’s father told him he was stupid to fear the Stone Men. They couldn’t hurt him; they couldn’t even twitch a single finger. Nicholas though his father was stupid not to notice the way the Stone Men smiled and winked; granite flesh grating over pock-marked eyeballs as he and his father walked the garden paths.

“They’re not real Nicholas.” His father told him. “You shouldn’t be so childish.”

Nicholas shook his head and ignored his father. His father was old, too old to hear the Stone Men laugh. They croaked with pebbles bubbling in their throats and only words that had been spoken before to say.

“They’re waking up.” he whispered, though knew his father would beat him for speaking. His mother wore her Stone Men bruises as warnings;

“Fists need not be rock to break the bone.” she said, hands wrapped around his own. “This place is not ours, we do not belong among these men of stone, they will break us!”

His father came to drag her from his room.

“Don’t fill the boy’s head; your nonsense makes him stupid as it is. Who would think that the Stone Men are real? He’s not right because of you!”

Nicholas heard the family physician claim it was the fall that killed her. Two hundred steps and a fractured neck, no blood and lips caught open without chance to speak. They did not mention the fingerprint bruises around her wrists or the screams that echoed before the fall.

 

Over time Nicholas stopped fearing the Stone Men. The Stone Men smiled when his father did not. The Stone Men were slow while his father’s swing shot out of threats faster than Nicholas could duck.

“If I could be stone, my father could not hurt me.” he told the Stone Men. “He cannot touch you.”

“We will not break.” said the Stone Men; speaking with voices that they did not own. “Flesh Men will not hurt us. We are as fey. Immortal.”

 

Isabelle was beautiful, but her heart was cruel.

“Must I marry you?” she said. “You are as dull as those Stone Men. Nothing you say is worthy of note and even your fortune holds little allure. One could think you stupid.”

“Think what you wish.” said Nicholas. “But do not curse the Stone Men, they do not take words lightly.”

 

“Where is mother?” asked Nicholas’s son.

“Taken by the Stone Men.” said Nicholas. “Her flesh to turn to dust.”

“Why did the Stone Men come father?”

“They come for those who enjoy to watch things break.”

My Attempt at December Form Challenge

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
For none shall be able to forestall this loss,
Or find another world to which they can run.

If you say yes; that you will adore me yet…
Should I trust those lips which kiss me sweetly?
That weave such beautiful tricks, traps and nets
To trip and catch the Æsir and their army.

Tell me, if it should be my breath leaves first,
Should you take another into our bed?
Or should you deem this world to be accursed,
And wait for the fates to cut immortal thread.

(A Canzone)

Another Failure I’ll Add to The List

Your magnificent masterpiece leaned to the left.
Framed and fixed, we never noticed until we stepped away.
You bulged blue, swore saffron and screamed at the help-
As if it were their faulted frame leaning lopsided!
I think I said something, maybe made mock;
My taunting tongue always for an attack on you…
So we both swore saffron, but only you bulged blue.

(An Allitersien)

So those were my three poems that I managed to write for the December Form Challenge in 2012. For anyone interested in seeing the list of forms and the prompts, here is a link: http://kiwi-damnation.deviantart.com/art/DFC-2012-Form-Chart-339762217

As always, please leave a comment if you have one since I love to hear what people think of my work. Thank you for reading and have a lovely day!