Let me fetch my lyre

“Another kind of poem the troubadours wrote – though they didn’t invent it – was the aubade, or dawn song. The convention of the aubade is this: Dawn is coming. The lovers have to part….

“Write your own aubade, one that either follows the conventions or resists them.”

-Kim Addonizio

 

For two examples of “post-troubadour” aubades see “The Sun Rising” and “Aubade.”

 

Be warned, this needs some extreme editing. However, I think there’s a gem tucked inside.

 

 

7 am

I rise with the sun

Streaming through the window

To splash against the wall

Pure gold

But only for an hour

That one moment

glimpse of heaven

Before I am plunged into hell

that I will never fully escape

 

The sun often tells couples to

“hie thee hence”

If only I had listened

Maybe I’d still be able to enjoy a sunrise

like I used to

Instead I stayed

and was plucked apart like the petals of a daisy

My petals scattered amongst the bedsheets

 

Did you see? Oh sun. What happened?

Do you see me now and look

With pity or disdain?

What judgment do you pass

on a boy and his “lover”

 

Shine gently great source of light

Be gentle unto me

For my shoulders are weak

And my skin already scarred

Bring me your gold once again.

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