Sonnet Sequence: On Cinderella The Society November 20, 2012 Poetry 5 Comments By Julie Catherine Vigna Sonnet III: Beginnings In bare and dusty feet she wields her broom With none save cat, and creatures of the light To break the days spent work-worn in the gloom Or twilight by the cinders, black as night Her clothes just rags, and meagre scraps for food To drudge, to toil, her daily lot— her strife As days go by with naught to break her mood Though tasks done perfect, lonely is her life While siblings, not of blood, take center stage Bark orders, preen and scorn this cinder lass Whose tender heart lives not inside a cage But walks in beauty, none that can surpass This cinder girl— the fairest in the land Knows not, one day, a prince will seek her hand. Sonnet IV: The Ball She met him at the ball, a charming prince Who eyed the heav’nly vision gowned in blue Her shining spirit did his mind convince— Through time eternal, his love would be true His soul enraptured, loving at first glance Such winsome maid that brought his voice to hush And she, with trust; her heart lost with each dance Was innocence; upon her cheeks a blush In sweet romance, they waltzed across the floor But for each other, they could be alone— Then sounded clock; fair maiden raced for door With sinking heart, her prince chased, but she’d flown At stroke of midnight, she fled castle fair Her crystal slipper, found upon the stair. Sonnet V: The Prince Forlorn, the prince searched high and low, the lands His kingdom reigned— for she who stole his heart On strange, enchanted night, all princely plans Were rent; so now, he knew where he must start Each maid must fit glass slipper sure to foot And though they tried, all maids from every home Alas, no woman’s toes could be input— In dainty shoe, so further he must roam He came upon the cottage where she dwelled Though sisters tried to block her from his sight Saw beauty through the dust, and his heart swelled Her golden smile assured him he was right— The cinder girl, whose foot fit like a glove As she looked up, he knew he’d found his love. Sonnet VI: Happy Ever After ‘Tis just a tale, a fable for young girl Of Cinderella, and her charming prince It sets a standard, puts her mind awhirl No man could measure, ever to convince That life and love when seen through rosy glass Like slippers, only fit in books and lore— True love, for real, when given just a pass Could be the one you wanted evermore But even so, a fairy tale come true May happen, when least thought that it could be I tell myself that, when I’m feeling blue Some day my prince will come to rescue me Always longing, through my tears and laughter — Dream of love, and happy ever after. Julie Catherine Vigna is a Canadian author and poet, living in British Columbia, Canada. She recently self-published her debut book of poetry, “Poems of Living, Loving & Lore.” These poems are among the entries for the Society of Classical Poets’ 2012 Poetry Competition. Related Post Ode to the Confederate Dead by Cause Bewilder for Joshua Philipp Grave statue after statue falls with strict impunity. Memorials and monuments yield to community. The wind wh... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail 5 Responses Neal Whitman November 21, 2012 Dear Julie, Once upon a time, poetry was for the common reader, not the specialist. No, not a fairy tale. It was what once was. Your set of six sonnets are a reminder of what poetry once was and too often is not today. Wonderful sonnets. Thank you. Amicus poeticae, Neal Whitman Reply disqus_y4bs08g0mT November 21, 2012 Neal, thank you so much for reading and for your wonderful comments on my Cinderella Sonnet Sequence; they are so much appreciated. I am so thankful there is a venue to showcase classical poetry here, and am honored to be in such great company. I look forward to exploring your works as well. ~ Julie Reply James Ph. Kotsybar November 21, 2012 Dear Julie, I thought you might enjoy my somewhat different take on the “… ever after.” IF THE SHOE FITS … It probably was inevitable that Cinderella held on to her mops, and, even when queen and venerable, she’d sport accoutrements from thrift-store shops. And all she ever had to talk about was her history of family abuse, but she just never seemed to work it out; the royal therapists were of no use. And in her mind, she’s still belle of the ball, though she walks assisted by a glass cane, and Fairy-God-Mother has ceased to call, driven away by Cin’s own bitter reign. And every midnight she wakes with a start and listens in darkness to her own heart. — James Ph. Kotsybar Reply disqus_y4bs08g0mT November 21, 2012 James, this is brilliant, I love your ‘darker’ version of the story! Thank you so much for reading and commenting – I look forward to reading your work as well. ~ Julie Reply Neal Whitman November 21, 2012 Julie, it is a good sign when readers comment on your poems. Congratulations! I submitted four poems early on and then one more for my five-poem limit for the contest. Now I see much creativity on display on this website. The poets here are, in the words of another poet, Mark Jarman, “rebel angels.” The resurgence of rhyme and meter that the Society of Classical Poets promotes is a true revolution. To bear arms is is a poet’s constitutional right. Amicus poeticae, Neal Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.