From the Vaults: The Funeral of Niobe

(So, uh, you guys aren’t cool with just an edit on the pantoum, are you? Didn’t think so. Well, there’s possibly a villanelle in the future, but in the meantime, have a sonnet, back from when I was figuring out how to write sonnets that made sense and were actually emotive to read.)

(Also, yes, the mistake re: Carthage/Sodom is deliberate.)

The Sun sets; the world is turned to night,

And I am left with naught but dreams –

Perchance to sleep? Lilies, for sight,

And rosemary, for remembrance. Not all is as it seems;

Turn now, turn now, the city is aflame,

Turn now, turn now, turn me now to salt

For letting mortal eyes look on the bane

Of Carthage. I desire no flesh; I shall be salt.

The earth is barren and bare, for I mourn,

For I mourn; Persephone’s gone and ate

Six seeds; thus I swear the world shall bear

Neither flower nor fruit. I shall ne’er sleep though Sun has set…


Let me weep, let me weep: Niobe is dead,

I am turned to granite in her stead.


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