Iron Poet, Round XII.

[cadhla]

Welcome to the latest round of Iron Poet, the game where you give me three words and I give you a poem. This is an adaptation of a standard writer's workshop activity, and I do not claim the original concept. I just claim to enjoy doing it

Comments

[fireriven]

talisman
sickle
red

Apple.

[cadhla]

They could have made a talisman of anything;
Of the silver sickle moon or the winter chill,
Of the gloss-green holly or the owl which cried
Once
Twice
And then was still.
So many signs and portents ripe for plucking...

But they chose white
As snow and silence
They chose red
As blood and violence
They chose black
And then they wondered
Why I did not fear the poison.

Silly storytellers who designed
Their perfect little fable;
When she handed me the apple,
Red without, white within,
Black with silence and with stories
How could I not sense kinship
And spread my lips
And bite?

Re: Apple.

[copperwise]

My gods, woman, that's incredible.

Re: Apple.

[cadhla]

Thank you!

Re: Apple.

[cadhla]

You can if you like, dear. Careful of Lilly, she's territorial.

Re: Apple.

[archangelbeth]

*beth goes and pairs this with the other and goes ooooooyes*

Re: Apple.

[cadhla]

*beam*

Re: Apple.

[kyra_neko_rei]

WOW. Perfection, this.