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The Silence of the Troupe (1942, France)

Question: what poetic form would anyone suggest for this piece?

The Silence of the Assassins

(1942, France)

The red church candles smoke, tributaries
to their losing game, eyes spun
in augury transits of thunder. The club of Aces
gone to their circus clown, a smile
sliding down as he bleeds out. A blue
lit canopy of their hour is spinning,
the King a target huddled cozily in the fast
wrap of corruption. Be my God’s mercy, a starving 
mime
signals in dying semiosis, and the dwarf’s
wheat chaff tips in honeycomb tangles.
A tired angle’s oasis liberates their limp hands
as a small door is rifled to bits. et l’amour, one
whispers, her tear travels in a bittersweet
pink of black diamonds, a drop over an orphan’s
spilling muscle in magenta, a mauve hatchling.

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Comments

I'm tempted to suggest that your careful use of enjambment virtually creates its own form. That's not a cop-out. I think you would probably bruise it trying to squeeze it into a traditional shape.

Cool poem. LOL at 'starving 
mime', best kind. Ever read Pratchett? Lord Vetinari has a special snake pit he throws mimes into, on the wall is written "Learn The Words!"

cheers,
Jess
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Trying to change it to another form would be nigh impossible. If you want to write in a structured form I suggest first off a sonnet.
Shakespearean to begin with, then try a Petrarchan (Italian).
This one works as it is.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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just came all at once, it was good fortune, so I decided to leave it that way. My favorite form personally is anapestic tetrameter. Dr. Seuss wrote in that form.

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