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Plus: I love the word 'thraneen'

kellyrfineman has been posting some lively poetry discussions on her blog lately.

She made me want to write a narrative poem.

So I’ve been working on one.



Unfortunately, it sucks.

In the meantime, please enjoy one of my favorite poems by William Butler Yeats. (I’m not sure if it qualifies as narrative or not.)



CRAZY JANE GROWN OLD LOOKS AT THE DANCERS

I found that ivory image there
Dancing with her chosen youth,
But when he wound her coal-black hair
As though to strangle her, no scream
Or bodily movement did I dare,
Eyes under eyelids did so gleam;
Love is like the lion's tooth.

When She, and though some said she played
I said that she had danced heart's truth,
Drew a knife to strike him dead,
I could but leave him to his fate;
For no matter what is said
They had all that had their hate;
Love is like the lion's tooth.

Did he die or did she die?
Seemed to die or died they both?
God be with the times when I
Cared not a thraneen for what chanced
So that I had the limbs to try
Such a dance as there was danced -
Love is like the lion's tooth.

Comments

lkmadigan
Apr. 15th, 2006 02:43 pm (UTC)
I welcome all cackling and heckling ... guffawing and heehawing ... snickering and sniggering ... chortles and giggles ...

... but I draw the line at jeers and sneers.