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Fight or Flight – NaPoWriMo
Apr 22nd, 2010 by Entropy

Another villanelle. Cheating here, as I didn’t write this one recently. In fact it was for a class. It didn’t get a very good reception as I over-used the same word – light – too much. One of those times where you can say what you want to say, but you can’t say it will. (That’s why the real poets are paid the big bucks! Hahaha! ;-)) Still it is worthy I think of another outing here today.

Fight or Flight.

She stays still and quiet and hidden by the night
a creature on the run and laying low
her mind, trap-sprung, is set to run or fight

A leaf rustles, a twig snaps, she takes fright
and huddles deeper, safer in her burrow
she stays still and quiet and hidden by the night

Her eyes are wide to let in still more light
ears seek out a sound the eye can follow
her mind, trap-sprung, is set to run or fight

And as she waits until the morning light
time concertinas fast and slow
she stays still and quiet and hidden by the night

A dark shape moves towards her in the moonlight
her need to stay outweighs the urge to go
her mind, trap-sprung, is set to run or fight

She wills a conscious switch from fright to flight
but the grip of stillness overpowers her so
she stays still and quiet and hidden by the night
her mind, trap-sprung, is set to run or fight

by Entropy
The §purious Collective

ps. Happy Birthday to me!

An Acre of Sleep – NaPoWriMo
Apr 5th, 2010 by Entropy

Here’s a villainous villanelle by – a sleepless – Entropy:

Grant me an acre of sleep to fill this yawning night
and plant the seeds of peace within that land
to grow a crop of dreams to veil dawn’s early light.

From deserts which descend from mountain’s height,
great dunes of shattered rocks worn down to sand,
grant me an acre of sleep to fill this yawning night

The firefly sparked the woodland dell alight
and scorched the space the night owl would command
to grow a crop of dreams to veil dawn’s early light

In nightmare jagged canyons where reality takes fright
from wind-carved shapes my mind can’t understand:
Grant me an acre of sleep to fill this yawning night!

My lands are falling fallow in restless blight,
as powerless as the barren salted strand
to grow a crop of dreams to veil dawn’s early light.

Dull landscape shifts in drifts of morning white;
from icy wind-scoured wastes my weary eyes demand:
Grant me an acre of sleep to fill this yawning night,
to grow a crop of dreams to veil dawn’s early light.

by Entropy
The §purious Collective

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