Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Tink

Her faerie name each silver moment chimes

Wild blonde, primly bunned, and big blue eyes

Scanty leafed skirt ‘round ballerina thighs

Swoops dragonfly wings chanting nursery rhymes.


With fireflies in mason jar she seethes

Caught, sweetly proud, unbowed as Lucifer

While apish boy snaps bubble gum at her.

The winged girl sulks and scolds but never pleads.


Faerie girls will in faerie tales believe

And so Our Lady of the Broken Wings.

Peter will fly with sword and set her free

If she but wish upon a star and sing.


Poor magic girl in our hard world resides

Where the heroes fail and the magic dies.


****
C. Sanchez-Garcia

8 comments:

  1. Is this YOUR poem, Garce? If not, then whose?

    Wonderful!

    Warmly,
    Lisabet

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  2. Garce,

    I'm so pleased I picked poetry as the topic for this week. If this is one of yours I'm impressed and will be writing to ask you a favour shortly.

    Best,

    Ash

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  3. Lisabet and Ashley and Kathleen;

    I am totally pleased to say, yes your honor, I am the father of this baby, and I have a half a spiral notebook of wadded up drafts, and a few pages bitten in two with my teeth, to prove it. If I had this to do over, i would have made some of those torn pages my illustration.

    I had originally intended to write a free verse poem about Nixie and I still have the notes for it, but I was having a lot of trouble with it.

    I have very little experience with poetry, other than reading it. I've hardly ever tried to write any. I was walking around and saw this car with a license plate on the front with a Disney cartoon of Tinkerbelle and the word "Tink", which was the nickname Peter Pan usually addressed Tinkerbelle by. I suddenly had this flash of Tinkerbelle trapped in a glass jar with pinholes with some fireflies. How did she get in the jar? Some kid caught her.

    I knew I wanted to challenge myself and write a formal sonnet which turned out to be really difficult. What I've ended up with is an Italianate sonnet in the format of iambic pentameter - ten beats to a line, rhyming ABBA CDDC EFEF GG. Writing a sonnet in any formal scheme it turns out is like doing a really frustrating crossword puzzle. You think you've got a good line, but its too short or too long or you can;t find a rhyme for it and you have to keep starting over and over.

    In my first drafts it was an erotic poem, the mean little boy wants to see Tinkerbelle naked, something I've always wanted too, and he won't let her go until she strips for him and she won't do it. But then that dark final couplet about the absence of magic outside of storybooks hit me while I was hunched over my notebook during lunch and I had my theme. The last quatrain was the hardest. I struggled with it all the way through Tuesday afternoon and almost gave up.

    Yes sir, that's my baby, no sir don't mean maybe.

    Those are the labor pains.

    Lisabet - I'd like to put it in the book, do you think it'll work?

    Garce

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  4. Ashley! Forgot - by all means, how can I help you?

    Garce

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  5. Garce,

    I've sent you a message through FaceBook.

    Ash

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  6. Very nice. Sonnets aren't easy to write with such vibrancy. I know, I've tried and always been disappointed in my results.

    Write more poetry! I love the back story too.

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  7. Hi Craig!

    Keep trying the sonnets. Thanks for reading my stuff!

    Garce

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