ManicDDaily

The wonderful dVerse Poets Pub has a “form for all” challenge today to write a French Ballade .  The pompt, hosted by Gay Reiser Cannon, gives clear instructions but, frankly, I found it a pretty difficult form.  For me, the hardest part was the syllabic line (8 syllables), since I tend to write in a modified pentameter (which allows for a bit of play in the number of syllables.)

At any rate, here’s mine.  (It’s still kind of a draft–suggestions welcome!)

Going Home (Last Hospital Stay)

Though angled with no special care,
the tape stains spoke of intention,
as if, by cantilever, there
had been some trick of physics done,
some framework lifted, battle won,
a scaffolding’s dismounted trace–
of orange (glue)–and, too, a notion
of failing beams across a face.

But skin was sore now it was bare
of bands of tube that had just run
from nostril curve to curl of ear
to squeeze and ease the oxygen,
to silently let go let come
what let the lungs slow down their race,
and countenance reflect a sun
of failing beams across a face.

They rushed us home through open air–
each stretcher bearer was a son–
and cold it was, so cold out there–
and you, my dad, my only one–
I put my coat, my hat, upon
you too, though they looked out of place,
their blues too sprightly, too much fun,
with failing beams across your face.

You worried whether I was warm
and offered back, with age-old grace,
all to be had that day near done,
its failing beams across your face.

(P.S. – have edited since I first posted.  A process this!)