The mournful mountains where we met

In fragrance of courageous doors
we’re sworn in secrecy of scribbled deaths.
My feet are nailed to brazen quests,
of mournful mountains where we met.

In ties of stubborn steel we’re dulled by time
and wrapped in cellophane and dusk,
transmitting sounds of pensive thoughts
In fragrance of courageous doors.

Where grape juice stained our linen cloth,
and silver candelabras burned the truths
of parchments preaching perfect nights.
We’re sworn in secrecy of scribbled deaths.

But from the major hope — symphonic tones
of shrugs and shivers from the frozen trees.
In arctic wails of willful woes — You say:
“my feet are nailed to brazen quests”,

So when you leave me all alone
as snow is melting- watch the tenebrism
when colors fade to monochromes
of mournful mountains where we met.

Today’s minichallenge at Real Toads is to select from the vast bank of previous challenges. Margaret have made it a little simpler by giving us three to choose from, and being a form-junkie I went for a cascade as described by Hedgewitch. I will also link this to Poetry Pantry.

January 24, 2014

45 responses to “The mournful mountains where we met

  1. I love the alliteration throughout this piece, Bjorn and the word choices…there’re some technical ones that are fun to read. This “We’re sworn in secrecy of scribbled deaths.” I so enjoy the idea of a scribbled death. Great job on that form, I remember it was a challenge! 🙂

  2. Surreal response but when read aloud the verses have a rhyming cadence ~ Specially like the third stanza: We’re sworn in secrecy of scribbled deaths. 🙂

  3. tenebrism is a cool word…and what imagery…and really smooth flow in this…always a journey to be had…and a quest to follow, but all seems to come back to that mountain where met…

  4. I had to read it twice and aloud is quite powerful and yet soft. So many metaphors that paint this piece, among them I truly connected with “my feet are nailed to brazen quests”…beautifully written, Björn.

  5. The repetition of ‘mournful mountains where we met’ seems to drive the point home. That, combined with ‘scribbled deaths’ is pretty ominous!

  6. ‘In fragrance of courageous doors’… ‘Mournful mountains where we met’…
    Such beautiful lines. What a lovely poem ❤

  7. i don’t know but i find snowy mountains mournful.
    there are really beautiful lines and imagery here. while i was reading this, my mind also thought of arrange marriage.

  8. That’s quite of a journey to go through with the promise of danger & death lurking around. This reads like perfection, Bjorn! I loved it from the setting to rhymes & classic appeal—all very well done!

  9. the grape juice staining the clothes and wrapped in cellophane and dusk… are my fav image here… and you do so well with sonnets björn

  10. What sadness pervades this piece as insignificant details are remembered so fondly…hanging on to anything to avoid the total loss of love. Beautiful!

  11. Magnificent poem, Bjorn. So many lines I could quote as sterling but I couldn’t leave mention of a single stanza. Love it!

  12. transmitting sounds of pensive thoughts
    In fragrance of courageous doors.

    It gives the feel of wanting to send strong messages to lend support to those courageous enough to fight for a cause! Great write Bjorn!


  13. The form you chose really works well for this poem. It is memory cascading and meloncholy. Any poem that can pull off inclusion of “tenebrism” gets high marks in my book. Powerful. Sad.

  14. Very cool, Bjorn–you used the cascade so well, and I could definitely imagine this frozen quest, and someone–or someone’s feet–wanting to bail out. Very deftly done. k.

  15. Wow. This is an impressive write. The form is intriguing – and complex – with its repeated lines, which really work to imbue the poem with mood. Really fine work, Bjorn.

  16. Beyond words but I will try. The repeated lines, the cadence. word choices, images….as snow is melting, watch the tenebrism…..parchments of perfect nights. This is not a good poem, this is a truly great one. I may not be a good poet, but I know good poetry when I read it. I had to read this thrice…to myself, aloud, and outside to the sepia trees.

  17. of mournful mountains where we met..ugh..pulls my heart
    of parchments preaching perfect nights..I can feel the hardship
    of the quest..perhaps, some fire to warm and light the way. I had to read it out loud to feel the cadence.

  18. l love your tryst in the mountains all told in cascade form. I am home now and today looked at that choice. It is very exacting and would have kept me from another meal on the ship. 🙂 Even then I could never have matched your beauty here.

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