You, darling, were on the brink of falling
You didn’t cry but sang out to the moon
Something in you was tragically calling
Like a wolf howling or a hound
Eyes peered through the ebony dark, darling
They weren’t yours nor mine
But a deity’s foul cackling and cheering
To drown you in the turquoise lagoon
So green, ethereal and enticing…
(A/N: Today’s featured poet is Thomas Lux who sadly passed earlier this year and the title is the closing line of his poem: Cucumber Fields Crossed by High Tension Wires.
The prompt was to write a nine-lined poem, Spenserian form (because who doesn’t appreciate the lasting influence of The Faerie Queene). I chose the Magic 9 form: a. b. a. c. a. d. a. b. a. with a personalised syllable count per rhyming line.
I’d also like to mention that this 9th day is Charles Baudelaire’s birthday so this piece is a tribute in memory of one of the greatest French poets, perhaps the most macabre of them too.)