![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
May. 27th, 2011
carving futures
May. 27th, 2011 02:02 pmWeek 4 all prompts
genre :Poetry
G rated
Word count 223
The Raven spread his wings and within
the iridescent black rainbow his wings created,
flew to the highest point in the city where he could watch over the falcon,
listen to the busker's dreams
and stutterstrut among the baubles he had
collected of what was the truth of Freedom.
And what was truth of separating
good from evil, when curiosity turns
within the widening gyre to love.
The beginning is
the pound of flesh,
offered not taken.
good and evil both
demand it, although good
can be fiercer.
He takes a feather
black as dreamer's
home can be.
carving a pound
of Reality out of
his flesh, he
Ignores the pain
of legs growing
wings furling in arms.
His is a waking dream
both good and evil
have learned to fear.
In a bed somewhere,
is a dream of being
a falcon with a black shadow.
unused limbs new
tossing against cotton
sheets unshroudlike
on the square the busker
sees for a moment, the transformation
and guitar strings hum.
Raven stretches, picks
one last feather up, smiling
at Good and Evil,
Who he sees no different.
Picks up the small
pound weight Raven statue
and with boots rumbling
percussion on the
cobbled surface of the square,
stutterstruts his way
wondering at this new caring,
but still ready to play with Destiny.
author's note. the second stanza is based on The Second Coming by WB Yeats. Although I have changed the meaning slightly.
genre :Poetry
G rated
Word count 223
The Raven spread his wings and within
the iridescent black rainbow his wings created,
flew to the highest point in the city where he could watch over the falcon,
listen to the busker's dreams
and stutterstrut among the baubles he had
collected of what was the truth of Freedom.
And what was truth of separating
good from evil, when curiosity turns
within the widening gyre to love.
The beginning is
the pound of flesh,
offered not taken.
good and evil both
demand it, although good
can be fiercer.
He takes a feather
black as dreamer's
home can be.
carving a pound
of Reality out of
his flesh, he
Ignores the pain
of legs growing
wings furling in arms.
His is a waking dream
both good and evil
have learned to fear.
In a bed somewhere,
is a dream of being
a falcon with a black shadow.
unused limbs new
tossing against cotton
sheets unshroudlike
on the square the busker
sees for a moment, the transformation
and guitar strings hum.
Raven stretches, picks
one last feather up, smiling
at Good and Evil,
Who he sees no different.
Picks up the small
pound weight Raven statue
and with boots rumbling
percussion on the
cobbled surface of the square,
stutterstruts his way
wondering at this new caring,
but still ready to play with Destiny.
author's note. the second stanza is based on The Second Coming by WB Yeats. Although I have changed the meaning slightly.