A crippled dove is dying; her wound a dusky red
in the maple's crook she's hiding.
Her heart her wedding song; herself the newlywed.
A carmine blaze upon her breast to mark the place she's bled
like a penitent confiding
A crippled dove is dying; her wound a dusky red
The purple splay of sunset now reveals a fraying thread
in her tiny breast subsiding--
her heart her wedding song; herself the newlywed.
Beneath her injured wing, she hides her tawny head
as the sun is lower gliding
a crippled dove is dying; her wound a dusky red.
The summer grass, soon bereft, would take her place instead
except for circumstance dividing--
her heart her wedding song; herself the newlywed.
The presiding night has finished; the ceremony said--
her new master toward the threshold swiftly striding.
A crippled dove is dying; her wound a dusky red--
her heart her wedding song; herself the newlywed.
_______
the de Chirico is similar to a pantoum, except that tercets replace quatrains.
Wow, I love this so much! A cool form, excellently executed. And the wounded dove, her heart her wedding song, herself the newly wed - just perfect.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful poem. I enjoyed it a lot. Suzanne - Wordpress blog - Wayfaring.
ReplyDeleteI love the form and the poem! Leaves me with a feeling of sadness for the poor dying dove.
ReplyDeleteI love how this flows so effortlessly like bird song and a well established ode..so tenderly written and touching - Jae
ReplyDeleteFirst, I am fascinated by this form, and your deftness with it, a form which is so musical and light a garment for the substantial raft of meaning and mood it carries here. The cadence and the unforced feeling are unique, to my ear, in forms of this type, like the villanelle or cascade. You treat it with the skillful brush of a fine artist, and fill in its lines with color and depth. Just a beautiful poem, Shay. What more can I say but that it made me feel.
ReplyDeletePoor bird. None can feel what she's going through. Her sadness is beyond measure. So "in the maple's crook she's hiding"; "she hides her tawny head". Such a moving poem.
ReplyDeleteThis is such a beautiful and moving poem. A perfect form for the content. "in the maple's crook she's hiding." and "Beneath her injured wing, she hides her tawny head" are my favorite lines. So deeply touching.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, and so sad.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully done!
ReplyDelete