The sky has donned again its fateful dress,
Obligingly efficient wind has blown,
A droplet’s dance’s swift melodiousness
Dictates her magic to her children grown.
For why, says she, the floods will ever own
This long distrusted image of a god
Casting his tacky brightness at forlorn
Landscapes in darkness uniformly clad?
A human form into a gesture pressed
An Abrahamic dagger, or a Faun
In purging hail, for sins yet unconfessed,
Stands proud, unbent, unflinching – and alone.
Reminiscing on centuries that have gone,
His posture more in common with a rod,
Strong with the masons’ strength who carve in stone
Landscapes in darkness uniformly clad.
By his free will, he brought his own distress,
By his exertions, to be cursed upon,
And so expects the harsh divine redress,
Sharp fangs of rain, ravaging his front lawn.
A Job, whose supplicating abject tone
Perhaps ensures reprieve. And yet one that,
For all its rainbows will not light for long
Landscapes in darkness uniformly clad.
Unequal struggle-starter – now atone
For your sin of existing, oh you mad
Man desperate to fight, not to look on
Landscapes in darkness uniformly clad.
Poetic Journeys 
February 10, 2012 at 12:53 am
Darkness has real depth here. You use the form eloquently to explore philosophical enigmas. Beliefs inherently cloudy are astutely symbolized in the refrain “landscapes in darkness uniformly clad”. This is layered thought brought to a keener awareness by being a ballade, and quite modern in the way it’s used by the wrap and enjambment of the lines. Brilliant work. Thank you!
February 12, 2012 at 4:49 am
I felt the last verse especially communicated a powerful truth eloquently and well. I like the repetition of the last line of each verse throughout as well – it’s a great line.
February 12, 2012 at 8:36 am
Well done. This is very stately and beautiful, and does not seem forced by the form. I have an image of a man (not somehow woman) shaking his fist at the dark sky! I did a ballade too, but it’s much more childish. K.
February 13, 2012 at 2:27 am
This is a beautiful poem about what is divine and our human infallibility, and how we almost insist on having this responded to.