POEM THIRTY

Woo whooo!!!  The last day of National Poetry Month!  And my 30th poem of the month–written from a most intriguing prompt.  Here’s what NaPoWriMo presented as the final challenge:

And now our final (and still optional) prompt! I know I’ve used this one in prior years, but it’s one of my favorites, so bear with me. Find a shortish poem that you like, and rewrite each line, replacing each word (or as many words as you can) with words that mean the opposite. For example, you might turn “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” to “I won’t contrast you with a winter’s night.” Your first draft of this kind of opposite poem will likely need a little polishing, but this is a fun way to respond to a poem you like, while also learning how that poem’s rhetorical strategies really work. (It’s sort of like taking a radio apart and putting it back together, but for poetry). Happy writing!

And here’s Will….Shakepeare, that is.  I have printed Sonnet #71 and then my

reversal below.  Great fun this.  NOW, back to my novel!!!

Image

William Shakespeare

Sonnet #71

No longer mourn for me when I am dead

Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell

Give warning to the world that I am fled

From this vile, world, with vilest worms to dwell:

Nay, if you read this line, remember not

The hand hat writ it; for I love you so

That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot

If thinking on me then should make you woe.

O, if, I say, you look upon this verse

When I perhaps compounded am with clay,

Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.

But let your love even with my life decay,

Lest the wise world should look into your moan

And mock you with me after I am gone.

~Shakespeare

Sonnet Reversal

Now rejoice for yourself when you are alive

Then I shall hear the benevolent joyful bell

Withhold invitation to the village that you have arrived

From this sensitive world, with sweetest dragons to expell:

Yay, if I read this missive, you forget not

The foot that typed it; for you hate me so

That you in your foul diatribe would be remembered.

If speaking on you, then should not destroy my joy.

O, if you remain silent, I ignore this nonsense

When you perhaps are destroyed by liquid,

Do so little as my rich declassification forgets.

But let my hate even with your death prosper,

Lest the fool’s village should not look into your silence

And revere me with you after you have arrived.

Copyright 2013

                   C.J. Prince

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About cjprincepoet

I write. I read. I write and read...I listen to raindrops on begonias, talk to ravens, dance with dragons. I practice Tai Chi in a barn, I sleep with earth stones and tarot cards. I celebrate each day. Join me!
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One Response to POEM THIRTY

  1. Susan Chase-Foster says:

    Love it C.J.! You’re work this month has been fantastic and it was wonderful hearing you read your poem noir last evening.

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