The Creature Speaks in Poetry
Over at High Calling Blogs we are trying our hands at writing monster poetry. I mentioned this to my girls on the way to opera last night, and Sara took up the challenge this morning. Here is her pantoum, written from some unknown creature's point of view...
We were standing in front of a slate-roofed
farmhouse, the rain falling down in cloaks,
the sky was wet and night-dark blue
was interrupted by yellow-window chunks
and the rain fell down like a cloak,
and the sounds were snow-fall soft,
'cause the sky was wet in night-dark-blue...
and the headlights of cars were gone
away, gone away like snowfall soft,
the trees were a dark friend standing high
the headlights were long gone,
and the rain kept slipping by...by...by...
the trees stood tall in dark and high
the wind was a small cold breath
while the rain went slipping by...by...by...
and his hands were cold as death,
so the wind breathed down one small cold breath
and he held his hand in mine,
and his hands felt cold as death,
and behind us snaked yellow-road line,
so he held his hand in mine,
his hair dripped down,
in front of the yellow road-line,
and his hair dripped down, brown,
his hair dripped down, down,
as he raised his face to mine,
and we stood two aligned
and his hair was brown, brown,
when he raised his face to mine,
when we stood together as the rain
dropped on us aligned
by one desire, one gain,
when we stood together as the rain,
washed away the night,
as by one desire, one gain,
the sky was grey, then light.
as the lights went out from the window,
as the rain was a mist on the slate roof,
and we walked away in the dawnlight low,
for the sky under trees that was nightdark blue.
Poem by Sara, 12. Used with permission. House photo by L.L. Barkat