And now comes my fetch in the mist by the slough
unnoticed by the sheep who eat the bursting sloes.
An unwelcome messenger, my double pale and blue,
to snap the stem that holds my soul and reap what doesn't rot.
I'm an altered, repetitious hag, with just the grave for new,
my breakfast made of river stones and set on plates of ice.
The horse may shed its harness, the ship may shed its crew.
I likewise shed this life entire, and no more question pose,
then--like the laurel root--decay, dissolving where it grew.
_______
for Word Garden Word List #19 (at The Sunday Muse.)
this poem is a "Magic 9" poem, with rhyme scheme aba cad aba, or "abracadabra" minus the two r's.
when laurel grows in a swampy area, or "slough", the roots will rot.
What a complex and enigmatic little form,and it suits your poem down to the ground. I noticed when re-reading Housman that he often wrote of the fleeting quality of life, and you can really feel that here--how the speaker is reflected in her twin self, her fetch(one of my favorite words) and twisted in that mirror. Or is it more of an omen than a mirror> That second stanza is sharp as a weasel bite. Really unique, and exceptionally clever, Shay.
ReplyDeleteDecades ago I grew a laurel in a huge pot .. I remember drilling several holes in the pot bottom as the nursery guy told me they were easy to kill if they were over-watered. Mine survived and I passed it on to my neighbor when I moved, too huge to move. Which of course has nothing to do with your poem and the tricky form ... I thoroughly enjoyed.
ReplyDeleteAn interesting form, which you rocked, as you tend to do. Love the very clever rhyming.
ReplyDeleteI've always wondered why the person who created this form decided to omit the r's in abracadabra!
ReplyDeleteYour line about an altered hag sends my imagination flying... altered in what way? I ask myself.
Sincerely,
David [ben Alexander]
http://skepticskaddish.com/
A form I don't think I've seen before. The last stanza stands on its own - the rhythm and rhyme shaping it perfectly.
ReplyDeleteYou immediately took me to the scene.
ReplyDeleteWonderful poetry.
"to snap the stem that holds my soul"
Oooh! Rich, thick with sense and language. I think you out-Houseman Houseman!
ReplyDeleteLife is ending even as it is beginning. I love all the bitter truth you have told in such a wonderful way here Shay! Your imagery never disappoints, and that last stanza is as magical and brilliant as the form you used! It too agree with Qbit!!
ReplyDeleteOh, finally! I can get to your comment box! I was having a world of trouble.
ReplyDeleteI did not know this meaning of “fetch.” What a stunning poem and introduction to the concept. Though the piece is heartbreaking to read, it is also a pleasure as your language is so beautiful.
My favorites:
“An unwelcome messenger, my double pale and blue”
“just the grave for new”
“shed this life entire”
Unique poem for a unique form. Loved the rhyming.
ReplyDeletethat is an insanely clever format. i noticed all the sounds in this, end rhymes and internal rhymes, but could now pick up on a solid pattern. very well done, love that last line.
ReplyDeletestay
You do this form excellent justice, Shay, and I love that it's almost "abracadabra"! I love your swamp thing roots, I'm a fan of swamp things :-)
ReplyDelete