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Militant Books
Marshaled ranks of silent books
Formed on shelves as in brigade,
Fill the wooden dusty nooks
Waiting for their next parade.
Untamed spirits hide inside,
Lurking out of watcher’s sight,
Feeding off a soldier pride,
Waiting for the well-loved fight.
Leather armor fading dull,
Nameplates wearing on their spines,
Paling under long war’s toll,
Waiting in these combat lines.
Who will let these soldiers war?
Let their souls at last be freed?
What are books of old used for?
You must take them up and read.
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The Giant’s Causeway
The pillared coast where giants joined the Faë.
Where wizened men recall the ancient dance,
And thunderous waves now dash with mist and spray.
The morning waters chased their childrens’ play
While booming fathers watched the younglings’ prance
The pillared coast where giants joined the Faë.
While daring youth ascended cliff and bay,
The baking sun paraded its advance.
But thunderous waves now dash with mist and spray.
A lonely call as twilight passed away.
From bygone time the lingering word enchants
The pillared coast where giants joined the Faë.
Resounding tides collapse on pillars gray,
The icy causeway holds its timeless stance
And thunderous waves still dash with mist and spray.
Strategic stones, a bridge of war, they say,
To bear a vengeance armed with iron lance.
The pillared coast: now giants join the Faë
Where thunderous waves still dash with mist and spray.
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Skye Campbell is a young poet and avid reader from Moscow, Idaho, living among the trees and rolling hills of the Palouse.
Skye, these are two praiseworthy poems, particularly for the concepts you portray: 1.) “Marshaled ranks of silent books…” and 2.) “The pillared coast where giants play…” Both of them have vivid words and phrases that bring them alive with wonderful meter and rhyme. Realizing the Fae are European folklore spiritual beings is essential to the story and your treatment of them in the poem that sends it to ethereal spheres. Both are well done and well appreciated. Keep up the excellent work.
Thanks Roy, the praise is appreciated. I hope to continue more in this line!
I admire your idea of representing the unread books as soldiers awaiting deployment. You have carried this personification well and concluded the piece with a powerful message. The villanelle reads beautifully, but I would like to know more about it since Mr. Peterson’s mention of it being folklore has made me curious. Thank you for these, Skye. God bless.
Thanks Shamik! Look up the Giant’s Causeway on the internet to see pictures. It is very beautiful. The legend of the giant’s causeway is that there was a giant named Finn who lived in northern Ireland who threw those stones into the sea to retaliate against a different giant who lived in Scotland and threatened Ireland. Finn goes to Scotland, is forced to retreat taking the form of a baby. The other giant pursues, sees the giant baby, is scared that the father may be massive, and flies back across the causeway, destroying it as he goes. There are actually a matching set of similar stones on the coast of Scotland, hence there are both sides of the “bridge”.
Most of the poem is not explicitly referring to the myth. The main conceit is tracing the course of a day at the causeway in the time of the giants. Then flashing forward to today when all that are left are the haunting stones. The one reference to the myth itself are the first two lines of the last stanza. Hope that helps to show a little more context.
The story of life in the military is “Hurry up and wait.” “Hurry up” to get combat ready in uniform and in marching order, “and wait” until ordered into action. Anyone who has served recognizes “hurry up and wait” as a daily procedure with a rush to be ready, and very considerable time spent waiting. Skye, you have marshaled this reality of life into extended metaphor about the readiness of books waiting impatiently for a reader to make use of them. Cute command to the reader in the final line, with “you must” as if he or she is being ordered to allow active spirits within each book to accomplish their missions. A perfect poem in the meter, in the details, and in spirit. I enjoyed it thoroughly.
The villanelle is also well done, and I glad you gave Shamik more background about the myth. Your poem, though, really shines among its kind because most parts are grammatically complete and meaningful sentences. The few lines where this is not the case can be understood as mythic utterances directing attention to a sight or thought. The whole represents very careful selection and shaping of the portions to be repeated. And that’s the essence of composing a villanelle.
Both poems are serious and seriously good. And the author has somehow learned nearly everything it takes to write a good villanelle. Things are blooming now in Idaho, and not just in the Banana Belt.