Ode to the Peacock (April 8, 2013)
April 8, 2013 § Leave a Comment
And here is what happens when I work a 12 hour day and then remember that it’s time to write a poem. Blech. Incomprehensible, but it follows the prompt: “writing in ottava rima — an Italian form that, in English, usually takes the form of an eight-line stanza of iambic pentameter, with a rhyme scheme of a-b-a-b-a-b-c-c.”
Ode to the Peacock
You hear our shouts and insults float away
like flocks of clouds that vanish near the sun;
too late for you to measure all they say,
our thoughts are shredded, tattered, born to run.
We are bold, brilliant, wild, and free, hooray!
You silly men who treasure us among
your hats and capes and slender vases tall –
You fools! You have not captured us at all.