journal (if found, please return to florence sang)

[Florence Sang]

"The villanelle is a highly structured poem made up of five tercets followed by a quatrain, with two repeating rhymes and two refrains."

blood, brick (thick, quick, wick, pick, angelic, sick), bath (path, sociopath, wrath), bright (flight, might, spite, bite, blight, delight), death, write, "it's nothing mistress, just go lie down," (sundown, gown, drown, crown), starve, hunger, maid, bathory, wall (pall)

in bathory is a wall of brick
behind which elizabeth of brutal renown—
she hungers for maids angelic

elizabeth of bathory once knew delight
she bathed in blood under candlelight

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elizabeth once knew delight
after removing her heavy gown
she bathed in blood in candlelight

she chose her maids in daylight bright
plucked them from her town—
elizabeth once knew delight

six hundred maidens she did bite
and drain and drink and drown—
she bathed in blood in candlelight

she knew in her bones that this was right
but before long, word got around—
elizabeth once knew delight

the villagers found in numbers might
brick by brick, they kept her bound—
because she bathed in blood in candlelight

the butler said, knowing her end was nigh,
"it's nothing mistress, just go lie down"—
elizabeth once knew delight
she bathed in blood in candlelight


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notes: hate the slant rhymes. must choose a different B. 

[Florence Sang]

Jake, Matteo, Liz, etc have all been pressuring me to go to a Quidditch game. I went. It was fine. I got bored during the middle bit so I wrote this (I was obviously hoping to manifest something).

pindaric ode, triadic structure, every fourth line shorter
strophe: the game begins, the seeker loses the snitch and searches for it (ABBA)
antistrophe: the seeker’s attention to the snitch causes him to be Bludgered (CCDD)
epode: the snitch is caught/victory (EFFE)

Ode to the Golden Snitch

Unmoving metal jolted and began to stir—
The Golden Snitch disappeared into the sky.
The Golden Snitch that was to be my prize—
I listen for its whir.

Unmoved by cheers or taunts from the stands—
I dreamt of delicate gold trapped in my hand.
A Bludger struck me in the head—
I ignored it though I bled.

At long last my purpose called to me—
I hunted it down, I dove down the pitch—
The crowd roared but I sensed only the Snitch.
In my hand—Victory.