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sisters & sparrows

Poetry. Photography. Life.

I’ve been a bit scarce the last couple of days.  Essays are done so have been living my life.  Saw the Harry Potter film today which was, surprisingly, amazing.

The villanelle is a tricky form.  Fun though.  Here’s my attempt:

 

Folklore

 

Through the dark, the beating of a drum

Stirs the air and shivers down my spine

I have to ask myself what I’ve become

 

There are trees, here, tall trees, dumb;

But shifting through the boughs of pine,

Through the dark, the beating of a drum –

 

That speaks to my blood a wild anthem

A cry of such dark joy in this frail skull of mine

I have to ask myself what I’ve become

 

The drums in the wood are a deep bass hum,

It knits my bones, a spinning lifeline,

Through the dark, the beating of a drum

 

Can you hear it? Striking, rhythmic thrum –

A call to dance, to kill, a damning sign:

I have to ask myself what I’ve become

 

How can I escape its pull? Avoid its chasm?

That primeval beat in my ears, a dark poem.

Through the dark, the beating of the drum.

I have to ask myself what I’ve become.

 

 


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