The Weeper Glass
Which smile could compete with a smile accepting love? Goodbye wins a wedding
Warning: Forced/arranged marriage, emotional neglect, death/cremation, grief, and childbirth pain (mentioned, not explicit).
I.
Eighteen years of age, two boys found courage To pursue love, they hurry to spring dance Red dusk, blue stream, an oasis took a stance Lanterns hung like fruit for summer forridge
The drums beat fast across emerald mile Both eyes on her, plum cheek, and gown of plume “Lady Fany, your father seek a groom,” Talking less, they dance for her angel smile
He buy her feast and paid to gesture love But she sees the younger one, free of guile They dance and smile for hours, two souls above Firstborn, first time lost, he can’t admit of But gold is king; the merchant set the style And bought her youth to crown his bitter love.
II.
The worn gold survived his bitter hourage Her heart’s locked, faded to distant desert miles A bought bride who gave a ghost in her smile Still, she walked the halls and served daily porridge
Through trade and blood and years of silent forridge He sought the truth across the sand for a while To mask his doubt with wealth and hollow style And to pay the debt of their unhappy hourage
Three sons she bore through agony and love Three faces—smiles, pouts, and glare like him in the glass Three vendors offering, but one he deems worthy of Weeper glass, for his funeral will show ultimate love Alas, the dice for their unhappy life were cast “Saruk et tuk,” shall complete his final dreaming of.
III.
On the casket of flower, first fire licks his pyre His wife, barefoot, hollowed cheeks, white plume gown Black crown under her eyes, furrows on her brows Body still, but his spirit’s free, seeking the love and the liar
Say the words, and I shall be free, he whispers, You should have forgotten him, forty years’ a while Three boys and a fortune, I left, but you never smile One true, to mend arranged marriage’s fissure
“Saruk et tuk.” The obsidian glass folds and glows Three sons were his, faithful, but her love— shines where his brother is—as above, so below Saruk et tuk, he accepts what he already know “Saruk et tuk,” she speaks again, content, and with love He turns to ash, for the weeper glass finally shows.
So this is me trying to learn/adapt to Italian sonnet form. A lot of lines couldn’t follow the pentameter, and the rhythm scheme is a little breaking from the form. I do: ABBA CDDC EFE EFE in part 1. Then in part 2 & 3: ABBA ABBA CDC CDC… but breaking the pentameter.
My other dark/gothic poem: The Bent Nail



"paid to gesture love" these four words hurt a lot, wow! And stylistically you did a great work, mate!
This was magical!