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AMBIGRAM VII

Recto:

This thorny hedgehog world is rolled into
oblivious winter sleep, where fierce dreams
have clawed a hold and block the probing beams
that keep on seeking for a passage through—

a sleep so heavy and so deep it seems
the sleep of someone who had dared to go
to all extremes, had nothing left to know
or do. As winter ices up the streams

and blizzards howl and hurtle snow on snow,
the  narrow valley teems with soldiers who
must face the foe upon the frontier to
that cold new country where we all shall go.

Verso:

This thorny hedgehog world is rolled
into oblivious winter sleep,
where fierce dreams have clawed a hold

and block the probing beams that keep
on seeking for a passage through—
a sleep so heavy and so deep

it seems the sleep of someone who
had dared to go to all extremes,
had nothing left to know or do.

As winter ices up the streams
and blizzards howl and hurtle snow
on snow, the narrow valley teems

with soldiers who must face the foe
upon the frontier to that cold
new country where we all shall go.
THIS IS THE ULTIMATE IN FORMAL CHALLENGES! the poem has two forms, recto and verso, which are identical in content but must conform to the following:

Recto:  60 feet in 12 five-foot lines, rhymed ABBA BCCB CAAC
Verso:  60 feet in 15 four-foot lines, rhymed VWV WXW XYX YZY ZVZ (terza rima)

it will become clear very soon that
A=X, B=Y, C=Z
which makes the verso become in fact the following:
VWV WAW ABA BCB CVC

most important though: the result must be a real poem which has sense, music, cohesion and something to say....

go on - i dare you...
an old cat lady is all she will ever be
an old cat lady who was too blind to see

what was right there
someone who really did care

what she was all about
but all she ever did was shout

she didn't know any better
cos all she ever had was people who didn't get her

when someone finally did
she didn't know what to do

so she ran

ran
and
ran away

she didn't let him stay.

although 50 years back she begged him to
but 49 years she pushed him away

and now she is nothing
but an old lady with a bunch of cats

praying they won't eat her face when she dies...
you can set your roots deep in an attempt to hold on

but

even the strongest of trees can be forced to bow to the wind.
Not really sure if this can be classed as a poem? more of an observation but I like it anyway :)
What now, starlight?
What say you to these never-ending
Elegies of long and lonely
Dreaming
Fueled by your fingertips
That have circled every lock of her
Midnight hair
That failed to glisten in all
The right ways
To keep your guilty
Conscience
At bay?
She could cut your tongue
For all the misleading
Love it spent
& you would still sing
Of nothing but
The sweet
& very, very
Low.
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