Cruelly seduced by the night,
into darkness my mind took flight,
through sooty clouds, away on high
where only angels heard me cry.
My thoughts did spill from poets pen,
dripping blood, black as ink, and then,
leaving streams and deepening pools
of despair where the black queen rules.
I ascended to that vaulted realm so cold,
where poets grow mad, but never old,
spinning verses from sable fleece,
and weaving sagas which never cease.
Author notes
Do you ever sit up all night, composing a verse, only to find that you are thoroughly drained by the time you complete it? Poetry can take so much out of me. It is a kind of madness.
A contest entry
- Do You Write Serious Poetry or the Kind that Rhymes? (Contest) by Peripatetic.
1400 points, ended July 29, 2008, 27 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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The writer likens her poetic experience to the dark side of mythological narratives and legends.
"I ascended to that vaulted realm so cold,
where poets grow mad, but never old,
spinning verses from sable fleece,
and weaving sagas which never cease."
I am reminded of the Norse gods in their struggles against the darkness inspiring mortals to do the same, if only to bring to light and life a single poem.
I was charmed by the serious theme delivered with the simple aabb rhyme scheme, but I did stumble over the meter in a couple of places.
"where the black queen rules." If this is a literary or legendary reference, it escapes me for now.
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Often dream in poetry, lines and lines of perfect words only for them to flee from me at the moment of awakening. I liked how you describe the maddening effect this often seems to have.
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