Dower a scrap of sunset with voice

The sunset longs to become mortal, First lines of each stanza By Edgar Fawcett. Written for The Glosa poetry contest

How falls it, thou hast come to fly

A wispy fading dream longing to try

To become less fleeting than melting ice

An ever dying inspiration sipping mortality's entice

 

Did some orange tulip, flaked with black

Sing you a melody that got you off track

Which rainstorm made you long to feel

Rivers of sensations before them you kneel

 

Yearning toward Heaven until its wish was heard

Lady Sunset cloaked with night, her mentalities blurred

Came to Earth as one of us, consuming our sinful dust

Hearing heartaches, her innocence birthed rust

Desire unspeakably to be a bird

Lady Sunset's folly went unheard

Toil and grit became her weakly hue

Nights came slowly as the newest sunset faded blue
 

Author's Note

I love the idea of Glosa poetry!

Reviews

[Adrian K. Smith]

I know nothing about faucets and I prefer matte to glossy (told you I am no poet, and that you should all know it)... still, I know what I like, and that is a piece that gives me an opportunity to think (about something other than what I was already thinking); and this work gave me a chance to wonder - imagine, if everything dreamed of being something else - everything, always thinking that the something else is better. Okay, now stop thinking that and return to this poem - it is beautifully crafted, and it leads us along the path of that dream, that fades, turning the sunsets blue. Thank you for sharing this with us. :)

[☮]

Nice... I like the vintage feel to this and the language used. You're unafraid of exploring new avenues and I appreciate that. This is definitely a beautiful piece.

[Pax Analog]

Seems like antique jazz. Old-style borrowed key lines, followed by a riff. Interesting exercise.

Is that the "idea of Glosa poetry"? A variation on the "writing in a certain style" thing, like Hemingway, the Bard, and what-not? Only with borrowed opening lines?

I like the premise of "Lady Sunset" longing to be mortal, it's like any number of creation fables. And the lines seem to gain in timeless seamlessness after the opening "thou hast," which I don't care for, particularly since the rest of the verse mostly escapes the archaism, despite origins.

Last paragraph of my essay "Language is a Demigod" quotes Octavio Paz on what he thinks poetry is. Check it out. I end up feeling ambivalent between your formal execution being sound, and "quaintness," which rankles my edgy avant spirit.

But like I said, it left "thou hast" in the dust, as it were, so it gets better. You'll have to elucidate "the idea of Glosa poetry." I like your skill and theme though.