first "fitz"
Cloistered in an unlocked cell
each morning I linger
for an hour or so,
reluctant to join the world at large.
My inner drums are broken,
rejecting natures rhythm
but I've memorized the music
and still can play by ear.
At the moment of my choosing,
tiny electronic portals
aid my journey
toward your laughter.
posted by maya @ 12:22 PM
3 comments
3 Comments:
I know why Fitzgerald’s don’t usually rhyme! Oi Vey! This is as dark as the tail feathers of a raven at midnight, but that is almost beside the point. It is horrendously difficult to hit 55 when trying to manage both rhyme and meter! Free verse Fitzgerald’s for me, from here on out!
OH MAN! Don’t tell me! I should have taken a line from faucon’s Fitz rather than Maya’s shouldn’t I? ARGH!
My inner drums are broken
My patterns cracked and stilled
My song is now unspoken
My limbs are numb and chilled
Time will not be giving
Another kind of chance
This collapsed, disjointed living
A severed, fractured trance
A word, unsung, unspoken
A dream, undreamt, unwoken
My inner drums are broken
And I cannot dance
WHY? am I still trying to rhyme? I don’t seem to be able to stop! This got stuck at 54 and I couldn’t make it budge. I finally budged it. The result is iffy meter, but once I had the concept, I didn’t want to lose what I was saying. This one is taken from a line from faucon’s Fitz, so that is the correct procedure, I believe. I think I better go do SOMETHING ELSE now!
I am told to seek divinity
In eternal vats of crystal rain
To find that which has been spoken
With in the going price of pain
Then I am told all that is holy
Is so far beyond my skill to know
Yet, they send me to find heaven
In an endless quid pro quo
No faucon, I'm just having Fitz this afternoon, I don't suppose it will go on. I'm planning to go take something right now.
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