Phantom Play Date
Draft 1Pale faces dance around my weary mind,
As I wander, slowly, into a place. Where phantoms curtsey, and are rather kind, And compliment their look with classy lace. Ghoulish little girls rise to braid my hair Their laughter ascents, floating high above. Like puppets whose strings are no longer there They play with wind and air like youthful doves. But when the aged telephone does ring My ghostly playmates make their quick depart. A flash, a fade, a whispered zap and zing, From clear as day, to fuzzed like abstract art. But ‘tis not long until they come again For evening brings back my whimsical friends. Draft 2Pale faces dance around my weary mind,
As I slowly sink into a sound sleep. Ghoulish little girls start their nightly creep Around my room to see what they will find. These phantoms greet me by curtsey, so kind Their eager eyes, and bodies white as sleet, Want to dance, and play, and laugh ‘til we shriek, Experience the life they left behind. But when the aged telephone does ring My ghostly playmates make their quick depart. For sun sheds light on these two worlds apart And soon a flash, a fade, a zap and zing From clearly real, to fuzzed like abstract art. ‘Til night falls, and begins another fling. Draft 3Pale faces dance around my weary mind
As I slowly sink into a sound sleep. Now phantoms greet me by curtsey, so kind As the ghoulish girls start their nightly creep. Their eager eyes, and bodies white as sleet. Covered in pink cotton dresses and lace Want to play, and dance, and laugh ‘til they shriek. These ghostly friends float ‘round with poise and grace, To explore this new, unfamiliar place. But when that aged telephone does ring, These friendly phantoms abandon my space. A flash, a fade, a whispered zap and zing, And the sun rises, cueing their depart. Shining light on the worlds, existing apart. Draft 4As I slowly sink into a sound sleep,
I can see the pale faces dancing ‘round my weary head. Illuminated ladies light the night sky And phantoms greet me with a curtsey. Ghoulish little girls eager to laugh and play Float freely, exploring the space above Their cotton dresses move swiftly with the wind Like youthful doves exploring a new space. But when that old, black telephone does ring My ghostly playmates make their depart. As the sun sheds light to two worlds existing apart A flash, a fade, and a whispered zap and zing And just like that our fearless phantoms left. ‘Til moon rises up, and night falls again. |
ERN This poem was inspired by an installation I encountered on our visit to the Museum of Fine Arts at FSU. What struck me the most about all of the pieces we encountered was how they all evoked a story in my mind. I chose to run with these stories, because at this point, I was three poems down (now that we’re being honest). The installation was of ghostly looking little girls in a living room. This automatically reminded me of Disney’s Haunted Mansion, and I thought, I need to make this into a poem! My first instinct was to make it a sonnet. I particularly enjoy writing sonnets, so I started with a basic 14 line Shakespearean sonnet (ABABCDCDEFEFGG). I liked this first draft because I felt it gave off a whimsical, yet ghostly feel. I used phrases like “ghoulish little girls” and “phantoms curtsey”. I really liked the end product of my first draft, and thought it could use work when it came to sound sense. What I decided to do, instead of revising the sonnet, is play with different types of sonnets. I’ve written Shakespearean sonnets multiple times, but this time I thought I’d experiment with Italian and Spenserian as well.
For this second draft, I took the form of the Italian sonnet (ABBAABBACDDCDC). Just for the sake of clarity, I kept the iambic pentameter. What I did change was that I clarified that the setting where I wanted the action of the poem to take place was in a dream. Therefore, the second line reads “As I slowly sink into a somber sleep” and the ninth line reads “But when the aged telephone does ring”. This is to hint at the audience that the speaker of the poem encounters these phantoms in their dream. Writing this sonnet was challenging, because the rhyme scheme remained consistent in the two parts of it, therefore, I had to think of more words that rhymed. I also had a hard time figuring out the beat. I wondered, would it sound awkward to the readers if they didn’t know it was an Italian sonnet? I thought yes, and moved on to the next sonnet form, the Spenserian sonnet! The Spenserian rhyme scheme (ABABBCBCCDCDEE) was for some reason so much easier for me to grasp in comparison to the Italian rhyme scheme. With these sonnets, I’ve also messed around with shortening words, for example: ‘til, ‘round, ‘twas. I now know the struggle that sonnet writers must go through in trying to get the syllable count correct. I enjoyed playing with words to see how I can fit my ideas into a concise 10 syllables. My favorite thing about the sonnet is its ability to tell a story with precise language. In this draft, I tried to be as specific with my language as possible, which led to omitting words such as “the” or “a”. I liked this draft and was going make it my final draft, but I did want to play with sonnets who broke the form of what a sonnet was supposed to be. This draft painted the picture I was trying to create, followed iambic pentameter, and the rhyme scheme for most of the time, and used sound sense with “s” and “ph”/”f” sounds. However, I thought I’d give it one more try to see what would happen. For this draft, I started off with just not worrying about iambic pentameter, and was pleasantly surprised with what I got. I really liked this draft because I did not feel like I was constricted by a pentameter, a rhyme scheme, or a certain formula to follow. The only thing I kept true to the sonnet, was the 14 lines. But I really liked this draft because it allowed for deeper, more vivid imagery. I was able to use phrases like “old, black telephone” instead of “aged (aged telephone). This poem taught me that while constraints are good when starting off as a poem, the mistake bigger than not complying to them is to comply to them, and not reach the poem’s full potential. |