Hello, dear Toads, and welcome to Personal Challenge Post Number Three. My challenge was provided by Grace/Heaven, and despite its relative simplicity, I managed to muck it up, as you’ll see below. But welcome to my post, in all its convoluted glory.
Grace’s challenge was for me to write two poems, in sonnet or cinquain form. I’ll spoil this right up front and tell you that I ended up writing three sonnets. (Argh.) You might remember that I wrote cinquains with great fury a while back, and I seem to have burnt myself out on the form. Plus, I find sonnets extremely challenging, so I figured I should really take on Grace’s challenge for what it is: CHALLENGE. Sonnets!
For the first poem, Grace asked me to choose among the recent work of a fellow Toad (as Michael/Grapeling has previously challenged her), and write a response that may be totally different or showing a different point of view. I decided to respond to a poem by dear Susie Clevenger that particularly struck me. Susie’s poem is called Fist Held Verses. Please click through and read Susie's wonderful, inspiring poem. My response is a Kyrielle sonnet:
She Wishes to Loosen the Verse-Grip
The second part of Grace’s challenge was for me to use the title of the poem Metamorphosis by Sylvia Plath or get inspiration from her work to write a response. Here is where I messed up: though Grace helpfully provided me with a link to the poem to which she wanted me to respond, I unhelpfully did not notice said link, and responded to a wholly different poem. Did you know that Sylvia Plath has TWO poems with "metamorphosis/es" in the title? Well, now you do.
Now that you’ve fairly exorcised
every Demon courting you last
night, last week, or yesterday’s lies,
as if your Verses could surpass
The reality of your Truth,
virtue spilled on the page, forecast
cold with a chance of where-are-you
in the simpler Time just gone past
Your prime, your Words resonating
but flying, coming very fast,
the Saddest years, already passed
Like yesteryear’s iconoclast,
you stay stuck, scribbling down the Past.
So I wrote another Kyrielle sonnet for poem number two, responding to the very beautiful poem Metamorphoses of the Moon by Sylvia Plath:
For Sylvia, By Moon-Light
(Actually, the above poem has seven-syllable lines and the Kyrielle requires eight. I claim poetic license.)
Thinking I was all finished, I was reviewing Grace’s challenge over the weekend and discovered her link, to a different poem. Eek! So, I decided it was my own tough luck and wrote a third Kyrielle sonnet, responding to the poem Metamorphosis by Sylvia Plath, as Grace intended:
In a wish for barren Night
or light or want of foresight,
unbelieving she’d be seen
between the Moon and a dream,
Unleashed, her callous fervor
set lust against lust once more,
but more is not what it seems
when begging the Moon for dreams.
Too soon her spit uncovers,
flits away from Light, lovers
& Night indulgence to breathe
where the dampish Moon meets dreams--
She might wish for simple dreams,
but Moon-dreams aren’t how they seem.
The title of the above poem refers to a poem called Bereavement by Percy Bysshe Shelley. Don’t ask how I made these connections, because I really don't think I can explain. But, whew! My challenge is (more than) complete.
We do not provide a Linky for personal challenge posts, but if you are crazy enough to be inspired to write sonnets, or are inspired by any other part of this long, long post, feel free to write and share a link with us in the comments. I promise to visit you if you do. And if you are still reading, thank you so much for indulging me. Love & XO, Marian
& In the longest, coldest month,
you’d assume sustenance within,
but she relied on amaranth
to absolve her plentiful sins--
If frozen Heart, still immortal,
caught wind of any beats human,
it lunged like a cur, distorted,
not minding tending many sins
Born in sullen February,
grown in a Crucible of wind,
nurtured amber’s never wary
of her temptation, boozy sin--
Much tragedy, unfading in
a Month of cold and ample Sin.