I miss the swish of grass and clover
The crunch of twigs, no pangs, no hunger,
That place is far--I must not pine--
For a poor, plucked porcupine
I watch out for the angry poet
I stumble back, too late to exit,
She glares at me, at these sharp spines
Her ink has spilled, so here she whines
I hate, I hate to wish her ill
She writes this poem with my quill
To see this paper sculpture of a Plucked Porcupine from more points of view, click here
This poem was meant, at first, to be a sonnet, which as you know is a form of poetry that contains 14 lines in four verses: 4 lines in the first verse, 4 in the second verse, 4 in the third verse, and 2 in the last one. For example, the rhyme scheme in a Shakespearean sonnet is a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g; where the last two lines are a rhyming couplet.
However, by the time the ink dried on the paper, the poem seemed to be missing a verse. Fittingly, it is a plucked sonnet.
Love the poem and the sculpture.ReplyDelete
Thank you Susan! It was fun to engineer and build it.ReplyDelete
Thank you giving us the magic of a 'plucked sonnet'! :)ReplyDelete
It's my pleasure, Arvind!Delete
I have a strange affinity for porcupines who, by the way, can only be danced with, not danced near. As my son informed me, that's because they have no quills on their bellies.ReplyDelete
Perhaps the "plucked porcupine" is not poor after all-as with far less quills, she is now more able to participate in life's intimacies, having lost much of what would have kept her from them before?
As for the arrested sonnet-the effect is lovely, as if everything that needed to be said had already been done so. Less is often more...
Your work is beautiful and thought-provoking, always!
Thank you ChaiLicious! Your comments always enrich the discussion! Indeed if the porcupine had quills on its belly it would not be able to lie down... Sigh...Delete
In the case of this paper sculpture, it is 'Plucked' not only because of the missing quills all around, but also because it has only three legs!
The images are wonderful, and I love the playful spirit that gave rise to your 'plucked sonnet,' not to mention the way it plays off the delightful sculpture.ReplyDelete
Thank you so much Deborah!Delete
How very cool and playful!ReplyDelete
Thank you so much, Sheila!Delete
peaceful prick, with a crunch, lovely!!ReplyDelete
Sangeeta, thank you! Even with a simple note you speak poetry!Delete
Thank you Mohan!Delete