Tag Archives: poetry forms

11. Between the shadow and the light

In between the shadow and
the light, be we ever so
humble, revelation wakens as
drunken laughter between kinsmen,
or an enemy well met
on crumbling walls, a
balm to cover the endless night;
Not long ago, we
sat by the Ganges and talked
as lovers do, between
the billowing sheets, the
tablecloths hung out to dry, rooms
long empty, filling up until
our hearts were overflowing with the
half-remembered songs of moss
green tufted soft beneath your head; had
we but walked a few more steps, reached
out to stir the water with our
skin-starved fingertips, our lips
dry river beds soon flooded, and
all the clouds in riot; yet covered
we our staid and sainted eyes, cast up
to the heavens our apologies, and all our
secrets kept, save one: our own true names.

– T.H. (& Emily, with a nod to TSE)

Read the full poem by Emily Dickinson here (“I died for Beauty — but was scarce”)

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Filed under National Poetry Month 2014

10. Only in defiance

Going deep retro today, following a nifty form called the “Golden Shovel” after the poem by Terrance Hayes. Have to say these were a heck of a lot of fun to write; like getting to have tea with your ideal poetry jam band.

Only in defiance of dismay, does Hope
prevail; only in stubborn rebellion is
our dry torch kindled, the
perilous folly of subversion: this thing
they call passion, but a bird with
borrowed, ill-fit feathers
demurely folded up, until that
day when the inevitable perches
hawk-like far above, to fall in
deadly perfect silence, the
talons taking purchase on the soul,
tearing all to pieces; and
still we shiver as the siren sings,
stop up our ears with the
memory of a different tune,
pray for a dawn without
consequence or regret, the
fiction of a promise without words;
Yet prick us, and
see our loved ones bleed, and never
was there rage so fierce, all stops
cast off, as all bolts fly at
Agincourt, so shall we conquer all.

– T.H. (& Emily, with a bow to William S.)

Read the full poem by Emily Dickinson here (“Hope is the thing with feathers”).

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Filed under National Poetry Month 2014