Title: A Window On William (the Bloody Awful Poet)
Summary: Poems in varying styles in the voice of souled Spike for seasonal_spuffy spring 2009
A/N: Cinquain poems follow the following rules:
Line 1 – One word (a noun) naming the subject of the verse.
Line 2 – Two words (adjectives) describing the subject.
Line 3 – Three words (verbs) describing the subject’s actions.
Line 4 – Four words giving the writer’s opinion of the subject.
Line 5 – One word (noun) giving another name for the subject.
Tanka is a Japanese poetry type of five lines, the first and third composed of five syllables and the rest of seven. Tanka is the oldest type of poetry in Japan.
Shakespearean sonnet: 14 lines, The usual rhyme scheme is end-rhymed a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g.
Septet, 7 line stanza ABABCCC
Dancing, striving, forgives
She’s magnanimous, exquisite, perfection
Killing, giving, loving,
She’s witty, resourceful, lethal
Regretting, hurting, convicting,
It’s necessary, guiding, humbling,
Give, forgive, sacrifice,
Makes one come alive
Melt, moan, possess, submit
Together, never alone again
Trio of Tankas:
In thrall she holds me.
Falling stars rest in her eyes.
Hair, gold as the sun,
My soul is filled with birdsong,
Singing praises to all her glories.
Hands, soft yet lethal.
Silken waterfalls of hair
Cascade o’er snowy
Mounds, both shoulder and breast. Eyes
That see all, yet miss so much.
Tongue like rapier
She flays me to the bone. Her
Mouth gives joy, also
Hell for one who lives by her
Every word. Speak kindly, love.
She walks, death’s companion, yet made of light.
I loved her ere I knew her name or face!
Oh, to be welcome at her side to fight
the battles that consume her. Not my place.
Forfeit all with my rude insistence. Now
bereft, apart, condemned by my own deeds.
I pledge my life; my loyalty I vow
to the one who set aside her own needs
and, undeserved, my great transgressions forgives.
So how then can I do less than love her?
Caught in her snare, I’m her eternal slave.
All I am is the best I can offer.
No love from her can I expect. My goal
is to be hers. She owns my heart and soul.
Could I but do o’er the time we
Were close, I’d love her well and good.
Forget my needs and to hers see.
Her pleadings not misunderstood.
Never would it end with a shove.
The monster hangs, judged from above,
Broken on the cross of her love.
She is a song without dancing.
I hide within the night’s black wings.
Called to her song, chance a dusting,
I teach the dance; my dark heart sings.
Oh, that she could see shades of grey,
My devotion her heart to sway!
Only pure love burns sins away.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/339850.html