The Warm Sky Woke Above
The warm sky woke above;
Below the cold earth dull;
From tightly constrained,
To an appealing refrain,
Of peaked heights, heat, and valleys of flora.
The heart of day, like life, did thump in
Synched beat with rising sun.
The summery bouquet was rainbow;
The verdant lush was seen;
The butterflies flew
Shimmered clouds in heaven’s blue chest,
Whose limits, apart from guides or thoughts,
Was unbound, ends lacking few coordinates
Which the thawing deconstructed everywhere.
My aura dulled as compared
with the sun’s burgeoned dare;
As a molten lava stream
Of a gold mountain’s seam
simmers brightly—so the light beamed there,
and it orange’d the plains laid smooth, aware,
Still in the glory of day.
The sun undid the winter’s pale estranged affliction,
Departing clouds undid corporeal gloom; convivial
the day did join
with patient optimists
to a thawed balm. Together, gravity abandoned,
among peach blossoms and violet-carpet valley,
we dwell in contentment’s season.
I wasn’t sure whether to have the original poem go first or the flip of it, but since the original by Shelley is so good and so riveting, I chose to put it last.
Note to Shelley: Please, dear sir, take no offense at my messing with your poem. I can only hope that there were days when the script flipped for you.
The cold earth slept below
By Percy Bysshe Shelley
The cold earth slept below;
Above the cold sky shone;
And all around,
With a chilling sound,
From caves of ice and fields of snow
The breath of night like death did flow
Beneath the sinking moon.
The wintry hedge was black;
The green grass was not seen;
The birds did rest
On the bare thorn’s breast,
Whose roots, beside the pathway track,
Had bound their folds o’er many a crack
Which the frost had made between.
Thine eyes glow’d in the glare
Of the moon’s dying light;
As a fen-fire’s beam
On a sluggish stream
Gleams dimly—so the moon shone there,
And it yellow’d the strings of thy tangled hair,
That shook in the wind of night.
The moon made thy lips pale, beloved;
The wind made thy bosom chill;
The night did shed
On thy dear head
Its frozen dew, and thou didst lie
Where the bitter breath of the naked sky
Might visit thee at will.
I am today’s host at dVerse’ Poetics. I say:
Today’s challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to pick one of these three pathways to use to write your poem:
1. Choose one of your favorite poems by another poet and “flip the script” on it as shown in the video. Please include both the original poem and poet’s attribution along with your flipped poem;
2. Choose one of your OWN favorite poems and flip it. Please include your original poem along with your flipped poem;
3. Write a diamante form poem.
top image link here