This week I have an epic poem and 500 word page paper due on Tuesday, a four page philosophy paper due Thursday, and a six page paper on Singlish due Friday. This ought to be a very interesting week with little sleep. I am quite enjoying writing my poem, especially because I gave myself quite strict parameters. I am attempting to explore the theme of a modern day hero, but in the style of Edmund Spenser's Faerie Queene. However, I will be using blank verse instead of the Spenserian rhyme scheme, coupled with a liberal dose of kennings. I could not give up on Old English altogether, you grim ground-dwellers. Here is my invocation.
You sought once to tell the tale alone
And failed and fell. You slipped upon the words,
And cut yourself, but you, tongue-proud small child,
Persisted, tried again—And then the words,
Angered by such sudden, reckless treatment
Lashed out, ripping at the hand that writes them.
Their poison, black as ink, now dulls your wits,
Wracks you, stiffens fingers, forces silence;
Blood-marked, your swollen hands lies still, listless—
And you must call upon the Orator,
The word-wielder, to suck the poison from
Your purpled hands. Now bow your head and wait
Upon the Word to stir the waters of
Your crippled mind. Sing, O Deep Spirit! Speak!
Your servant waits with pen at hand to write
A story soft, finely fit for telling.
The only problem, of course, is that it takes a tremendous amount of time.
A very tired Poet