Iron Poet, Round XI.
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
( Read more... )
mundane
metamorphosis (I'll accept variants on this, though the magic effect of the one person locked in a bag in a trunk and the other person standing on top of the trunk with a curtain they throw up and when it drops back the locked person has swopped place with the person on top is *called* "Metamorphosis")
Poem style I'll leave to you.
Thank you!
Reply
No rabbits out of hats for you,
But protein bars from purses
When the folks around you had grown hungry,
Bus passes from pockets
When the walk was just too long,
Hands on shoulders granting comfort
When no other hopes remained.
In the act of metamorphosis,
The magician can exchange
One person for another;
One body, one confinement.
Your magic was masked by the mundane.
Was the life you lived too simple?
Were the challenges too small?
We never knew your gifts
Until the day we found you gone.
See here: the unlocked window,
The shutters drawn, the glass still closed,
The bewildered woman in your skin,
Eyes as blank as any dove's
Stumbling confused on unfamiliar legs.
See here: white wings, like curtains,
Agains the splendor of a summer's sky.
Reply
Leave a comment