dverse poets pub is a place I love to hang out. Tonight Brian Miller is tending the bar…and we are breaking some rules. I am terrible at following forms, but I am trying to join in tonight, thinking I may have not got it right but still loved doing it anyway. I figure if it can be wrong then I might get it right…but what if it’s supposed to be wrong and I actually got it right but that would make it wrong. Ha!
I didn’t really break it…but instead I tried to remake it?
I had decided to try this form…The Cento. And right off the bat I was told I could not use the writer’s words since Cento is like a poetic version of collage using pieces of other authors’ work. However, since I can make or break the rules the way I want…ahem, ala Mr, Miller (our host), then um…well…here is my offering.
His, Mine and the Story of Forever
I wrote this story for you, but when I began I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books.
As a result you are too old for fairy tales, and by the time it is printed and bound you will be older still.
What is there, but love and fairy tales
for old men and little girls
an aromatic pipe on winter night,
mahogany wood and pearls
A moment later she found that she was standing in the middle of a wood at night-time with snow under her feet and snowflakes falling through the air.
Shall I speak to you of heavenly things
Of what’s revealed when mountains sing
songs of life and stones that know
where butterflies speak soft and slow
On and On he led them, into dark shadows and out into pale moonlight, getting their feet wet with the heavy dew.
I wished upon a starry sky
looked into the Lion’s eyes
waged a war
was a queen
pondered what my life
wondered if I’d go again
or if there could be another end
instead of what I’ve come to know
of spring’s return and melting snow
One day you’ll see Him and another you won’t. He doesn’t like being tied down- and of course he has other countries to attend to. It’s quite all right. He’ll often drop in. Only you mustn’t press him. He’s wild you know. Not like a tame lion.
I’ve chatted with sages
explored the outer perimeters
of brown edged pages
faced demons and gods
and creatures unknown
danced with fairies and fawns
and birds that have flown
from dusk unto dawn
into the unknown
But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.
and perhaps once again
you will believe in me,
be able to see
my love for you
beyond your needs
when your walls have crumbled
and you are unafraid
of being human
You can then take it down from some upper shelf, dust it, and tell me what you think of it. I shall proably be too deaf to hear, and too old to understand a word you say, but I shall still be
Your affectionate Mother,
Parka Marie Lewis
*All italicized sentences are from (as if you don’t already know) my favorite childhood story The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis. It is a combination of his personal dedication note to his God-daughter and some of my favorite lines from the story. The last name (which replaces his name) is my made up for fun Pen Name!