12 Degrees & Skiving

what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice

• Week 17 • Ballade •

the lucid gone

These hours before morning’s glow
daub sky and ridge in ambered stains;
owl passes over sleeping crow
and starlight songs are yet at pains
to teach the branches their refrains.
3am and her brace of rooks
have taken flight and fancy trains
the lucid gone who fill my books.

A long-dead friend, ever-young woe-
eyed darling tangled in her chains
of burnt umber, with love in tow
(even here she loves him still!), strains
my living voice thin against plains
between the dreams and knowing looks,
for with the dawning knowledge wanes
the lucid gone who fill my books.

Yet others come to dip a toe
in my sleep as I taste the rains
in theirs and harvest seeds to sow
in mine; and one (who even deigns
to see me, when I tread his lanes,
as a ghost with daylight eyes) brooks
both sides to collect words, campaigns
the lucid gone who fill my books.

At the limn of each other’s planes
we’ll wait, till lightning flower hooks
chart the fogged juncture that sustains
the lucid gone who fill my books.

A Ballade is not a ballad, but a French form consisting of 3 eight-line stanzas followed by a 1 four-line envoi. The syllabic count is consistent throughout (in this case I’ve gone with eight). The rhyme scheme is ababbcbc the last c is a refrain that is repeated as the last line in all three stanzas and the envoi, which is rhymed bcbc.

3 comments on “• Week 17 • Ballade •

  1. Jacqui
    April 27, 2012

    Wow!! I’m so glad I followed this link just now! So gorgeous! xoxo

  2. kittykatmandoo
    April 28, 2012

    Thanks, Jacqui! Glad you stopped by for a peek xo

  3. Kittykatmandoo
    February 1, 2016

Tell me wotcha reckon

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