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The Call of the Junco
Destruction beckons, waves a downy wing,
Her breezy voice a whisper: "Come and play!"
Within, I huddle, flames emblazoning
The walls that keep the bitter cold away.
A Southern California boy should stay
Where warmth and sunshine rule as queen and king.
Attractive prices led me far astray:
Destruction beckons, waves a downy wing.
Amongst the snowy fields, the spirits sing
With one, a sort of white and cloudy jay,
Adopting me, I guess, unwavering,
Her breezy voice a whisper: "Come and play!"
She taps the window, moonlight bright as day,
Chiaroscuro loveliness to bring
Delight to any eye that isn't clay.
Within, I huddle, flames emblazoning,
Surrounded, steeped, the heat enveloping
My shaking self. I watch with stark dismay
The icy wind continue buffeting
The walls that keep the bitter cold away.
Between us lies a gulf, a vast array
Of words. It's "brisk" to her; to me, it's "sting."
She loves a winter night. I can't convey
The pain of frozen blood. Until the spring,
Destruction beckons...
Her breezy voice a whisper: "Come and play!"
Within, I huddle, flames emblazoning
The walls that keep the bitter cold away.
A Southern California boy should stay
Where warmth and sunshine rule as queen and king.
Attractive prices led me far astray:
Destruction beckons, waves a downy wing.
Amongst the snowy fields, the spirits sing
With one, a sort of white and cloudy jay,
Adopting me, I guess, unwavering,
Her breezy voice a whisper: "Come and play!"
She taps the window, moonlight bright as day,
Chiaroscuro loveliness to bring
Delight to any eye that isn't clay.
Within, I huddle, flames emblazoning,
Surrounded, steeped, the heat enveloping
My shaking self. I watch with stark dismay
The icy wind continue buffeting
The walls that keep the bitter cold away.
Between us lies a gulf, a vast array
Of words. It's "brisk" to her; to me, it's "sting."
She loves a winter night. I can't convey
The pain of frozen blood. Until the spring,
Destruction beckons...
Ah, a rondeau redouble! These are tough to write in English, since you only get two rhymes. I did one for the county fair back in the fall. I even bothered to have the middle of the first line rhyme with the end of it so that last partial line also rhymed with the line before it. I went with tetrameter, whereas you have pentameter, and I don't recall if one's "official."
Very clean on rhyme and rhythm, and I like this picture of the person bundled up inside while watching a bird outside (which would have been harder to understand absent the title, but that's not unusual for poetry) somehow endure the cold. The poet has a knack for creating a charming atmosphere.
Incidentally, there are lots of tells as to who wrote what this time. One referring to southeastern flora, one referencing a "California boy," one using a British rhyme.
Very clean on rhyme and rhythm, and I like this picture of the person bundled up inside while watching a bird outside (which would have been harder to understand absent the title, but that's not unusual for poetry) somehow endure the cold. The poet has a knack for creating a charming atmosphere.
Incidentally, there are lots of tells as to who wrote what this time. One referring to southeastern flora, one referencing a "California boy," one using a British rhyme.
I like the structure of this poem and the contrast between its imagery (emblazoning flames, wings heralding destruction, frozen blood) and its ultimately humorous tone. Maybe the boy is now rueing his purchase as he awaits the Four Horseman...
>>Pascoite
>>Heavy_Mole
Thanks, folks!
I've only been in places where there's snow, I think, three times in my life, and the three adjectives that've stuck with me from those experiences are "cold" and "wet" and "yucky." But yeah, I can't help getting humorous about stuff... :)
Mike
>>Heavy_Mole
Thanks, folks!
I've only been in places where there's snow, I think, three times in my life, and the three adjectives that've stuck with me from those experiences are "cold" and "wet" and "yucky." But yeah, I can't help getting humorous about stuff... :)
Mike