Frangipani flowers lined his lacy fragrant bower
where legend blended rhapsody with motive and desire.
Yet his very froggy presence was bulbous, green and wet,
imbued with a fixation that he seldom could forget.
Residing deep inside of him, handsome, tall and strong,
a manifested courtier was imprisoned in that frog.
Limited to crooning love in two-note lullabies
aesthetically impeded his wish to womanize.
Romancing frogs on a great scale, with moles instead of hair
presumed no metamorphosis would attract a debonair
princess, queen or sorceress of expanded dialogue
who would ever see a princely form within that lumpy frog.
This is a meter sacrifice for story
Comments
-
I really enjoyed this poem
the story was presented in a lovely way, you have a strong grasp of language and how to turn it to your advantage I'm not so strong on meter myself, so I can't really comment on that, but the way that I read this it flowed together well and had a nice rhythm to it - I kind of imagined a scene similar to Alice In Wonderland (the frog doorman) with someone reading it out loud - wonderful
Keep writing
Polly
-
I could tell this sacrificed metre, but honestly, the poem still worked very well without metre; most rhyming pieces that forsake it are horrible, but thanks to your command of language and desire to tell a story, this was actually one of the best things I've read on here in a while.
My only critical suggestion would be to someday take a look at the metre -- and judging from your other piece, you know what you're doing -- but that's it. This is so natural. You certainly have sprezzatura, if I spelled that correctly.
-Cristina
Adding your comment:
