The Sisters' Coronet

by Fable Scroll

Sonnet 11

Cast out upon the starless, vast expanse
The senses find no purchase and grow numb.
The blackness turns the eye to inward glance
From whence the deeply mended visions come.

No sight, no sound: The language falls all still.
Without disturbance mind and ear grow keen
To listen to the heartblood's thund'rous trill
That echoes warped yet clear off walls unseen.

The barren wasteland feeds no healthy fruit
Beneath the castles that on mountains loom
And blacken Sol in power’s mad pursuit
To force heart’s tithe from those who face their doom.
The gods condemn the rulers of this place.
The saints may not deserve ill-gotten grace.

Comments

[horizon]

Oooooooooh! A Shakespearean instead of a Petrarchan sonnet! You switched to a marginally less challenging form, you cheater! Cheeeeeeeeeeeeater!

That's how it always starts. You think it's okay to switch to a rhyme scheme that has seven pairs of rhymes instead of five four, and then you start occasionally truncating the unstressed syllable at the start of a line, and then your so-called "editors" encourage you to work in some slant rhymes, and you'll just try blank verse once, what harm could it be, and by then playing around with the metrical feet starts to sound normal and natural — what's a dactyl between friends? — until one day they find you in an alleyway, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire; and as you thrash in detox, spread out upon a table like the evening etherized against the sky, you swear you can quit any time you want, it was just a momentary temptation — delicious, so sweet and so cold. So they let you go, creeping out on little cat feet, and that's the last anyone hears of you until the obituary next week mourns the best mind of your generation starving hysterical naked —

Shakespearean sonnets, fillies and gentlecolts. The gateway form.

[PresentPerfect]

If you changed "and grow" to "growing", you'd preserve that meter.

4234234
Look at this guy. :V

[Solitair]

4234234
It's still more appealing to mine eye. Behold the novel Finnegans Wake for proof positive that the work which challenges the creator most is not likely that which strikes the audience truest.

[horizon]

5482025
I'm sorry, I'm having a little trouble responding to you right now. I can't get my tongue out of my cheek.