Nine: Promises
A Word Nonet
We are not commonplace folk who journeyed through nine
years instead of months to Raven’s feral cauldron
stirring wildly while the world pot thunders
promises that we vowed to keep
and truth mixes with the
kind of madness that
brings forth the
union of
us
A traditional nonet works with descending syllables from nine to one. In this poem, instead of syllables, I used a descending number of words from nine to one for a total of nine lines. Here I am playing with geometry, words, and numbers. The shape in the image of the poem is a triangle. A triangle is a shape that can carry strong loads and handle stress and compression (I described this here: Fierceness, Playfulness, Loving-kindness). In addition, the number 9 is interesting in that all multiples of nine add to nine. This thought will lead to the second of the pair of poems I wrote which is a reflection of this one (stay tuned for that one). As I have written elsewhere the number 9 is sacred to me because it is the number of years it took to complete my quest.
Let me know what you think of this experiment.
For other experimental works look here:
