Come the morrow dawn was lifting; dreams were melting, thoughts were sifting.
In the sunlight thoughts of Lenore; tears alight my bedroom floor.
Then I thought my nighttime dreaming was a nightmare too true seeming;
Then I thought my nightmare’s dreaming took its power from Lenore.
And my soul leapt from the shadow as I heard my love, Lenore:
she who’d bust a buzz-saw snore.
* * *
Well, I mean… why not?!? Write a final stanza of a classic (The Raven), and change the overriding tone of the poem. But keep the meter and rhyme — including the internal rhyme — scheme.
Raven q(r)uark, crassing, voicing,
mate circling a similar air.
Independent, minded, capable
of linguistic displacement, weighted
with significant information –
it was present at inception.
Child, dark, sassing, squalling.
Mate has gone out for some air.
Independent, never minds, though capable
of enormous lung displacement, grating
with sibilant screeching.
I should have been absent at its inception.
First, my apologies to Petrujviljoen, who submitted the first half of “Song,” to Jill’s Casting Bricks July challenge. It’s late at night… the lighting was bad. Maybe it’s just that Charleys and Charlies (her cat) just are meant to drive people nuts. 🙂 I hope I didn’t cause undue damage.