Thursday, February 18, 2010

the great tree from obscuring fog arose - a sonnet

The great tree from obscuring fog arose,
majestic king of all the gardens near,
its aged branches splayed in prideful pose
in all the land there was no finer peer.

On nearby hill, in weathered manse, there sits
a Lady bloom'd in vibrant vanity
in beaded gowns her ample form just fits
due to a ribbed cage of necessity.

Tree and Mistress both of refined comport,
ones roots strangle, the others air compact,
for beauty's sake do natural form contort.
A grim and harmful unspoken contract.

Tree shrivels, Lady falls, and justice done
for aesthetics have ne'er survival won.

This Friday Flash was brought to you in the Shakespearean mode. I understand I bent the hell out of the iambic pentameter, but I haven't written one of these in close to 7 years. I think for that, I did pretty well. Okay enough for today, I suppose.


Jim_Wisneski said...

Works for me!

Well done with the feel, the flow, and mostly, the descriptions of it all.


Anonymous said...

Now, see, that wasn't so hard. Quite amusing stuff, and what excellent inspiration you found! ;-) I think you should try your hand at this sort of poetry more often.

M said...

I can't write poetry at all, so I'm just super impressed with this. I agree with Ditty; I'd love to see more from you. --mwachsmann

Carrie said...

Well this was certainly different Matt. Goes to show you're pretty special. Well done

Linda said...

Kudos for the strong form, and the meter worked for me. Loved the title and the mood. Peace, Linda