Change, or: Estrange

His doubts pained her 
profoundly / Why wouldn't he
believe in her words? Quarantined 
alone at home, with only her enchanting
descriptions of the world outside 
to raise his spirts, but still 
he wouldn't / Instead 
he compelled her,
insisting she
repeat after 
repeat his darkest 
repeat sorrows and 
banalities / 
Why are you doing this? She
cried / Can you really no longer perceive 
beauty? She whimpered / Sprites, she 
promised him - 
are dancing 
with fallen leaves in the wind, 
and pixies -
are prancing 
daintily across the puddles / But 
he would 
have none of it / 
he said / Now, 
[She shuddered but attempted to oblige 
him] All is cold, all is dead, and the world 
has become sheer hell frozen, unfurled,
where fantasies, so naรฏve, once had twirled,
there is now / 
Her graceful body 
as she 
horrid words out / 
No! No! 
No! I won't 
do this / What do 
you mean you 
I mean: I 
be your poem anymore!

The above poem is my take on dโ€™Verseโ€™s โ€˜Personification & Imageryโ€™ prompt.

The Writing Challenge: Write a poem utilizing either Personification (giving human characteristics to objects, animals, or ideas) or Imagery (appealing to the senses). If you want to combine these poetic devices in one poem, it’s also okay.

68 thoughts on “Change, or: Estrange”

  1. This has a great twist in the end. I so enjoyed the build up until the reveal, which we can all relate to.

    Thanks for joining in.

  2. Our poems bear the burdens of our depressions…but thankfully they also have their own ways to kick us back to a different state. I’m smiling. (K)

  3. lol I too wondered where this mythical tale was going so the twist was surprising!

    I thoroughly enjoyed the encounter with fae, these lines drew me …
    “Sprites, she
    promised him –
    are dancing
    with fallen leaves in the wind,
    and pixies –
    are prancing
    daintily across the puddles”

    if we can’t believe in magic and miracles we are only just surviving … we thrive by using our imaginations to create poetry! Stunner

  4. I like your imaginative use of the prompt here, embodying a poetic struggle between hope and despair. I’m pleased hope refuses to play ball at the end!

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