Poetry Workshop |
Faerie Tale (Double Sestina, posted here for lazy Jim LOL) |
Skyfyre Senior Member
since 1999-08-15
Posts 1906Sitting in Michael's Lap |
Capricious moon cavorts in star-bright sky And wisps of cloud like courtiers gather by Their arms outstretched to catch her silvered light. And yet, the tale that must be told this night Does not unfurl in that celestial field: Instead, a scene by moon's regard revealed Is painted on the forest's shadowed form. Within its still and mystic depths, a storm Of magick broods, in this enchanted hour: For they who weave the webs of ancient power Shall reap this night the fruits of spite they hold Each for the other; thus, the tale unfolds: Before her feet, the deepest shade unfolds In reverence at the brilliance of her form; Her eyes the Daystar's golden beams do hold To pierce the gloom of e'en the darkest storm. She fears not Dark, for daylight is her power; And gleams as midnight sun in this bleak hour – Unnatural scowl by Luna's cast revealed Who watches, rapt, from her exquisite sky – Her frown, a blemish on the sunlit field Of perfect face. A servant lingers by, Who knows that Hell shall walk the gloom this night Illumined by his Lady's mystic light. From tactful shade, she summons him to light -- And whispers in his ear – a plan revealed Whose curse shall write in History this night. She stands, so cold and regal ‘neath the sky, Defiant of the shadows gathered by; A beacon in the dim and silent field. She muses, for she knows that in this hour The threads of silken future will unfold And swathe or strangle her, by her own power. Cascades of magick cloak her quiet form, The breathless still before the raging storm Of leering Fate the coming trial would hold. In midnight throned waits he whose eyes doth hold The velvet depths of this unyielding hour; His is the voice that calls the snarling storm, Its curtain o'er the heavens to unfold. Soft shadows curl in love about his form And in those sable veils he finds his power – He looks through this dark glass to distant field Where she whose airy voice commands the light With hordes of glittered sycophants, waits by. Though nothing in her careful stance revealed But icy grace to mock enfolding sky, He knows she writhes in torment on this night. With eagerness, he grins, the Prince of Night; To meet the Queen of Dawn on that dim field With moon and stars as witness from their sky! There, sanctified by their effusive light Would see with grim finality revealed Eternally, one Victor, measured by The other's sure demise. His darkling power Danced anxious in his eyes – he vowed to hold No mercy in his heart for that fair form Whose noble pride would crumble in this hour As surely as he would his wrath unfold Upon her frailty in the coming storm. On conquest bent, he rides the breath of storm, Obedient to his unflinching power; And in his wake, his hordes, en masse, unfold To do his bidding. Ardent smile that holds No mirth does hang upon his face this hour; A mocking slice of white on this dark form That shames the midnight's gloom. The trees race by Beneath the flight of sovereign Liege of Night, In violent winds, their bowing trunks revealed By silent stars that frame the fateful field Where waits the one whose soul is molten Light. She watches his approach through raging sky. Unblinking eyes, so like the dawning sky, Meet his in fearless calm, despite the storm. So strange, her glow in this benighted hour – And yet, the forest crackles with her power Oppressive gloom no mastery does hold O'er her bright heart. He feels a thought unfold That jointly warms and chills him – waiting sky Is suddenly too close – it lingers by, Encroaching on his will like hateful Light. With tightened jaw, he calls the soothing night To wash his mind, but something in the field Yet grieves him, though its name is not revealed. His silent frame in shadowed grace revealed To her uneasy gaze; a patch of sky That stains with empty black the starry field. Unholy minions follow closely by, To heed the call of he who rules the Night; She breathes a prayer for her brigade of Light In fervent hope that Fortune will unfold Its gentle wings to guard her stately form. Might this unhappy conflict prove to hold A silver lining, draped on heaves of storm? She whispered pleas to every ancient Power That Victory might smile on her this hour. The wait is past – in this defining hour Shall Time's amorphous tapestry unfold To tell whose aspect wields the greater power. Their magicks swarm; two Wills are given form As clouds and lightning, self-contesting storm. And as it rages, neither seems to hold A marked advantage – by explosive light The fortitude of dauntless dark revealed – And searing Day unmoved by shrouding Night. Thus brought to earth, the fury of the sky Roils on, displaced, its wrath empowered by Embittered foes that flank embattled field. Opposing passions dancing on the field, The shadows melting in unnatural light Which then, in turn is promptly swallowed by The eager maw of Darkness. There revealed, In violent gale that mocks the peaceful sky, Ironic truth – the harvest of this night Will not be triumph – neither foe shall hold The throne unchallenged. This unhappy hour Whose passing flailed the Earth with savage storm Saw nothing save a fruitless duel unfold. The tempest fades; the two opponents form Long shadows in the ebb of burning power. Irresolute, they stand – conflicting power Still lingers at the ready in their hold. But – strange illusion! One majestic form Steps forth to meet her foe! Portentous hour, What fate shall this unlikely act unfold? And then, like shadow of approaching storm, He moves alike, a breath of walking night, Toward the center of the smoldered field. Their legions massed, as silent as the sky, Archaic nemeses of Dark and Light, Look on in disbelief – moonlight revealed Prophetic scene that Time is measured by. Soft footfalls – earth and heaven standing by To watch the breathless epic of this night; Two regal strides, and history revealed Where ancient foes sojourn in nighted field Suffused with Luna's glow and starry light. A frozen moment ‘neath expectant sky So tranquil in the aftermath of storm – Two gazes meet – and in them both a power – Unblinking, proud. There, eyes alight unfold A shocking twist: how dost this vision hold Such strong allure for them this fateful hour? A revelation slowly taking form ... Unfold a dream of such pervasive power Another storm is birthing in this hour; Strange demon taking form this wondrous night. In silvered light, a paradox revealed, Whose depth shall not be matched by endless sky: When love takes hold in wake of hatred's field. You cannot choose the way of your death, but the path you choose will determine its own end. |
||
© Copyright 2000 Linda Anderson - All Rights Reserved |
⇧ top of page ⇧ | ||
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. |