A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.
William Blake : The Fly
Little fly, Thy summer’s play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me? For I dance And drink and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. If thought is life And strength and breath, And the want Of thought is death, Then am I A happy fly, If I live, Or if I die.
This week, the prompt is all about deriving inspiration from the poem, The Fly, by William Blake. To prod a poem to reveal its secrets, we have to be the voice that speaks the words, realizing their presence one after another and how they convey a message to us, within and out. Reading a poem is a journey not only through what the poet meant for us to understand but also, what and how we perceive a meaning which is just meant for us.
Once you have broken apart and restructured the words, framing them and holding them in your palms, you are to write a haiku or tanka, deriving inspiration from William Blake and your own self.
*You can also include these two tags with your post: HeedingHaikuWithHA and MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie.