Measured Extravagance

19 December 2002 - 11:58 a.m.

Alchera Project Number 12, OPTION NO. TWO: Create a twelve-stanza poem the revolves around the idea of the Twelve Days of Christmas--this can be as subtle or as blatantly obvious as you wish. Be sure, however, that your poem does not go under or over twelve stanzas. The number of lines per stanza is completely up to you.


[Too much tea and Vaughan-Williams, perhaps. . .]

My love, she dreamt she was brought to me,
The choicest of the farmer's covey,
Garnished with pears from his finest tree.

    Sing we of ivy and holly.

My love, she dreamt she swam to a cove
Where turtles frolicked and white birds throve
And calm was the sea and the sky above.

    Sing we of ivy and holly.

My love, she dreamt she went on parade,
Plumage unfurled in the grand promenade
--And then she was plucked, and roasted, and glazed.

    Sing we of ivy and holly.

My love, she dreamt she heard me calling.
She raced to the headland, and then she was falling,
All the while sighing, "Darling, my darling."

    Sing we of ivy and holly.

My love, she dreamt she was placed in chains:
A strand to each limb. Then gilded and framed.
Asked of the artist, she yielded no name.

    Sing we of ivy and holly.

My love, she dreamt she walked out to the mill.
The geese were waddling beneath the sill
On which the miller had set pots of dill.

    Sing we of ivy and holly.

My love, she dreamt she had drowned in the river.
Her body retrieved by a knight, his silver
Gauntlet under her neck. With a shiver,

    Sing we of ivy and holly.

My love, she dreamt she bathed in milk,
And like all the legends, her skin became silk.
But silk can be rent just as milk can be spilled --

    Sing we of ivy and holly.

My love, she dreamt she wore a tiara,
Gliding across a school cafeteria
Decked out in streamers and paper wisteria.

    Sing we of ivy and holly.

My love, she dreamt she brought the lairds to war
By running away to Paris to score.
As lemmings they leapt. The lairds are no more.

    Sing we of ivy and holly.

My love, she dreamt she heard the reeds keening.
Heaven agreed the church needed cleaning
--But not for the bleach to obliterate meaning.

    Sing we of ivy and holly.

My love, awake! the morning is humming.
Hear the stones chant and the tree branches drumming.
Awake, my love, the strangers are coming.

    Sing we of ivy and holly.

- pld


One year ago:"It may be indecent to gloat about presents, but I'm going to anyway. . ."

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