Cast, Type

He bound thru hoarfrost, highland fells With naught but knees to ring the bells Such haunting peals from little blooms That daubed his hell with dreamy doom He wrapped his dreams around their throats Sweet things that bled with beats and notes And squeezed with all the strength he knew While each bright face turned ghastly blue The morn breaks, new, for each grieved soul Though doubts and deeds can take their toll He suffered, wrought from pride's cold dawn Those highlands bled from shame, now gone He searched for what he'd thus once found That careless heart ... now dead and bound. ~ Honorable Mention ~ in the "Completely Your Choice (30) Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor. * This is the Rhyme that my poem "Type, Cast" was built around ... I never did a mixed-form this way before, (writing the Free Verse sections and inserting Rhyme as I went), but compressing these sections after the fact helps me to see where the core ideas originated. Kind of a fun exercize, overall! *