Darlings. It's me, Fireblossom, with a Russian doll of a challenge for you this month. You know those matryoshkas, the little nesting dolls with one doll inside another inside another?
I've been thinking as I've read everyone's favorite poems over the past few weeks, and here is what I would like you to do: first, pick out a poem you particularly love. Then, write a poem which tells a story in which someone is reading that poem, or carrying a book containing that poem, or thinking about that poem while doing other things, or maybe that poem is on the bedside table or packed in a suitcase somewhere within the story your poem will tell.
To illustrate: one of my favorite poems is Byron's "She Walks In Beauty" which can be found HERE. Now, to tell a story in poem form, in which it plays a part. Like this...
She rolls, on her back, and not of her own volition,
because of the boy, the boy with books,
the smile and the rare editions.
She never thought herself beautiful, never thought herself rare,
until the boy who read her Byron,
who said that every word...was her.
He was a sun unto himself, like the bright lights above her now,
too concentrated and harsh for loving,
and the anesthetic needle in her cheek reminds her how
he wouldn't let her go, wouldn't release what he had collected,
and the volume of Byron wasn't enough
to keep his rage from her face, deflected.
Her parents' insurance will keep the damage impermanent,
God willing, and if all goes well
for a pretty girl who fell in love paid for it with her innocence.
See? A story within a poem, referencing one of my favorite poems by someone else.
Some ground rules:
Let us know what poem you are using. Be careful of copyright if you quote anything directly. In that case, public domain poems are best. Write an original new poem specifically for this challenge. You may keep the mood of the poem you reference, or turn it on its head, as I have done in my example. Then link back to Toads and sign the linky so that we can come see what you've written!
One must make a distinction however: when dragged into prominence by half poets, the result is not poetry, nor till the autocrats among us can be “literalists of the imagination”—above insolence and triviality and can present for inspection, imaginary gardens with real toads in them, shall we have it.