Bacchic words dance to an ecstatic tune
In this rendezvous of writer and bard
This enchanted space where we commune
The muse sometimes smiles; each poem is a boon
In the ideal poker hand, the perfect card
Bacchic words dance to an ecstatic tune
Rhythm, metre, character joyfully hewn
An anguished love of style, all strive to guard
This enchanted space where we commune
What if the humming birds never sang again
What if the Sistine Chapel melted to a shard
Would bacchic words dance to an ecstatic tune?
I would light you a candle for your moon
And sing you a flock for your boulevard,
This enchanted space where we commune
Bcause nothing must stop the flow of the loon
When it throbs among rushes just beyond the yard
Bacchic words dance to an ecstatic tune
In this enchanted space where we commune.
© anindita sengupta
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6 comments:
beautiful language
Nice villanelle Anindita!
JJ.
lovely! --
only "the flow of the loon" has me mildly scratching me noggin. But I've only heard of loons & not seen them ... perhaps their flight or their singing (crying?) has indeed a flow . . .
wonderful feel of the villanelle.
cheers, d.i.
Thank you all :). David, I'm not sure whether the cry of the loon has a flow ...I assumed it did as Nature rarely lacks unity within itself. Poetic license?
license granted ;-)
(not that I've
the authority)
flow on!
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