another ballad

[wasellajam]

So, I read a few times, shrugged and moved on. I read the crit but not the responses. But this caught me:

The source of the madness isn't the rejection - it's looking at the moon through the branches, which is sacrilege. Sorry, I think I made the whole premise too complicated.

because when my mom with Parkinsonian delusions saw a nonexistent parade out her window I sat in her chair and realized her brain was trying to make sense of the shapes between the branches and leaves.

So I gave the poem another try, looking up green willow and shoon and having more room for the imagery. Some notes.

Just been thrown off another forum (for 'professional' poets) within 30 seconds of posting this ballad, so I'll try here instead;

Song of the Lunatic Pilgrim

All round my hat I wear the green willow
and on my feet the sandal shoon,
Even accepting shoon I can't buy sandal shoon. Strappy shoon, well-worn shoon, leather shoon, anything but the repeated meaning.
for lost am I, who through leafless boughs
looked on old Mother Moon.
I followed the track of the swan on the lake
and, in the wind that blew
among the whispering rushes there
this rose I picked for you.
This is a beautiful sentence, I'm okay with a wild rose among rushes.
This rose has thorns both sharp and fine
to prick your finger deep and sore,
but though your blood be hot as fire
you'll never see me more.
Meh, I can't get over the cliche, intentional or not.
For round my hat I wear the green willow
and on my feet the sandal shoon,
and lost am I, who through leafless boughs
looked on old Mother Moon.
Fine with the ending.

So, I did in the end read it with as much commitment as I could and am on the fence if what I like is worth it. I'll read your responses now and see if I can get where you're aiming. My guess is I'll be surprised. Thanks for posting.

"sandal shoon" - Hamlet, act 4 scene 5, Ophelia sings 'How should I your true love know? ...'

"This rose has thorns both sharp and fine
to prick your finger deep and sore,
but though your blood be hot as fire
you'll never see me more."

which bit's the cliche?

many thanks for taking this seriously.

Ha, no luck getting close. I just got shoon as shoes and green willow as mourning. Unlike some other members here, I don't have a head full of Shakespeare, those days are long past and I never knew it by heart, maybe Juliet in the sixth grade. I usually pass over the drenched in allusion poems.

The whole rose/thorn, hot-blooded reads cliche to me, you may have better luck with milo.
And just because Shakespeare wrote sandal shoon that doesn't make it right.