On The Verge, Sonnet in Tersa Rima Options

[Guest_Kathy_*]

On the Verge. (Tersa Rima)

Alone. It's hot. Familiar odours steam
in tones of brown. The trees are breathing earth;
dark humus wets their feet and mine. I lean
against an ancient Puriri, its girth
a measurement of time. It gathers me,
absorbs my consciousness, and gives me birth

into another world ... of energy
that flows between the trees; that fiercely sweeps
in elemental chaos from the sea
and buffets, sneers at innocence that sleeps
upon the threshold. Help! A sly green man
is giggling in the leaves, enchantment creeps

in tangled vines. I run while yet I can,
my feet inspired by panic, lent by Pan.



NB: The Puriri is a New Zealand native tree.

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi Kathy.

I enjoyed this fantasy poem very much! I still haven't read the book or seen the movie or yet, but I knew which it was when I got your closing couplet. Tee hee! Pan's Labyrinth....

I only found two lines to offer alternates on for you below. Please take or toss as you wish.

Alone. It's hot. Familiar odours steam
in tones of brown. The trees are breathing earth;
dark humus wets their feet and mine. I lean
against an ancient Puriri, its girth
a measurement of time. It gathers me,
absorbs my consciousness, and gives me birth
The woods are alive! Good imagery.

into another world ... of energy
that flows between the trees; {that} [it] fiercely sweeps
in elemental chaos from the sea
and buffets, sneers at innocence that sleeps
upon the threshold. Help! A sly green man
is giggling in the leaves, enchantment creeps
Love this stanza!

in tangled vines. I run while yet I can,
[in tangled vines. I run while I still can,]
my feet inspired by panic, lent by Pan.
Cool!

[Guest_Kathy_*]

Hi Kathy.

I enjoyed this fantasy poem very much! I still haven't read the book or seen the movie or yet, but I knew which it was when I got your closing couplet. Tee hee! Pan's Labyrinth....

I only found two lines to offer alternates on for you below. Please take or toss as you wish.

Alone. It's hot. Familiar odours steam
in tones of brown. The trees are breathing earth;
dark humus wets their feet and mine. I lean
against an ancient Puriri, its girth
a measurement of time. It gathers me,
absorbs my consciousness, and gives me birth
The woods are alive! Good imagery.

into another world ... of energy
that flows between the trees; {that} [it] fiercely sweeps
in elemental chaos from the sea
and buffets, sneers at innocence that sleeps
upon the threshold. Help! A sly green man
is giggling in the leaves, enchantment creeps
Love this stanza!

in tangled vines. I run while yet I can,
[in tangled vines. I run while I still can,]
my feet inspired by panic, lent by Pan.
Cool!

Ah Cleo! I have just got back after spending several nights away, out of Internet contact.

Pan's Labyrinth! I am going to see that with a friend on Tuesday. It's like my poem?

It is a kind of fantasy of course, but it also happened. Sort of. A long time ago. Around puberty actually.

Folk-lore is similar, around the world. New Zealand is no exception; they have fairy folk too, and I wanted to draw parallels. The feelings re energy are very strong in New Zealand.

So. I will definately see Pan's Labyrinth now.

Cool.

.