by Dane Campbell
Syllabic unsolvable little riddle,
your bitter brutal blade began to whittle
my skin and bone and marrow into bow and wood and string,
to make a brittle fiddle break when drawn upon to sing.
Posted on 02/04/2014
Copyright © 2024 Dane Campbell
|Member Comments on this Poem
|Posted by Laura Doom on 02/04/14 at 06:17 PM
That's an intense sonic landscape; drawing a blade that is not drawn for a song that bows to being unsung...
|Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 02/04/14 at 11:55 PM
Alliteration allied with alchemy acclimates the bent bow into this fascinating filigree.
|Posted by Johanna May on 02/05/14 at 11:16 AM
so tense I hear the crack, sensory poem that might just break.
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 04/16/14 at 04:18 PM
Brilliant construction...message, Dane. Wish I had written this...glad you did. Heading straight for my favorites. :)
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/22/14 at 03:30 PM
Every word has its place, a pleasure to read aloud, - favorite phrase- "to make a brittle fiddle break". Into favorites. Thanks for this gem.
|Posted by Jody Pratt on 05/13/14 at 04:14 AM
Excellent. Fun to read. Everything in it's place. Inspiring and imaginative. Well done.