Posted by Tracy. This poem speaks for itself, defamiliarising through point of view.
The Puzzled Game-Birds
(Triolet)
Thomas Hardy
They are not those who used to feed us
When we were young - they cannot be -
These shapes that now bereave and bleed us?
They are not those who used to feed us, -
For would they not fair terms concede us?
- If hearts can house such treachery
They are not those who used to feed us
When we were young - they cannot be!
2 comments:
Hi Tracy
I hope you and your family are all well, it would be nice to hear from you.
I have just finished reading your novel Sweet and really enjoyed it. I wanted to let you know I think it's beautiful, I found it very moving.
Ron
Thanks very much - I'm glad you liked it. I have emailed you separately too.
Tracy.
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