kith

[ellajam]

The more interested I get in form/meter the more impressed I am with this one. I guess it goes under the category of You've got to know the rules to break them, in my novice writing I try so hard to avoid some of the things that work so well here, the variations and sight rhymes. A meaty poem to think about.

I prefer "and slough through the muck and the slather." in version 1, it has a fine gallop to it that suits the line.

I hope this is enough of a comment for the Serious forum, it is an old post and you are probably not actively working on it now.

Version 2: switched to a more consistent meter, made a couple word changes, not sure if it really is any improvement, may actually be worse.

Kith

I am not the rook or the crow,
or the intricate brooch at your throat. A feather
to rest in the brook of your brow.

Your song steals the wind from the low
that mourns with the bleat of the lamb. My brother,
I am not the rook or the crow.

Your bones take the crush from the blow;
the thick articulate stutter.  Our father
will drown in the brook of your brow.

We hide away hide away flow
and slough through the muck and the peat , we slather.
I am not the rook or the crow

as they wax and they nettle the grow
we loam away, quietly pine, we gather
at peace in the brook of your brow.

So I suitcase away this sorrow
and whisper the sough and the scatter .
I am not the rook or the crow
to hide in the brook of your brow.



original



I am not the rook or the crow,
or the intricate brooch at your throat. A feather
to rest in the brook of your brow.

Your sing steals the wind from the low
that laughs with the broken down lamb. My brother
I am not the rook or the crow.

Your bones take the crush from the blow
the thick articulate stutter, a stick.  Our father
will drown in the brook of your brow.

We hide away hide away flow
and slough through the muck and the slather.
I am not the rook or the crow

as they wax and they nettle the grow
we loam away quiet, we gather
at peace in the brook of your brow.

So I suitcase away this sorrow
and think that in time it won't matter.
I am not the rook or the crow
to hide in the bough of your brow.

milo