Labyrinth

A Corrigan

Description

Labyrinth:One classic film, fifty-five sonnets retells the cult classic film in the form of Shakespearean sonnets.It was inspired by A Corrigan's love of the film and the fact that she wished the novelisation had been more poetic, and physically resembled the book in the film more closely. She started writing the book late last year, intending it to be a celebration of the film's thirtieth anniversary, but it has now also become a tribute to its star, David Bowie.Many of the poems were composed at Bowie shrines; titles of various Bowie songs also found their way into the text. Labyrinth:One classic film, fifty-five sonnets is written in the form of Shakespearean sonnets, to reflect the fact that several of the lines Sarah quotes from her book in the film resemble iambic pentameter, but the language is intended to be more accessible. The book is aimed at Labyrinth aficionados, as well as fans of David Bowie and people who like sonnets and/or traditional rhyming poetry.A Corrigan takes inspiration from the works of Tolkien, Tanith Lee, and Neil Gaiman, and was specifically influenced by Christina Rossetti's 'Goblin Market' and Lewis Carroll's 'The Hunting of the Snark'.

Sujets

• Poetry

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 janvier 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781785897955
• Langue: English

Extrait

LABYRINTH
ONE CLASSIC FILM, FIFTY-FIVE SONNETS

Copyright © 2015 A Corrigan
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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ISBN 978 1785897 955
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CONTENTS
Prologue
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
XXVI
XXVII
XXVIII
XXIX
XXX
XXXI
XXXII
XXXIII
XXXIV
XXXV
XXXVI
XXXVII
XXXVIII
XXXIX
XL
XLI
XLII
XLIII
XLIV
XLV
XLVI
XLVII
XLVIII
XLIX
L
LI
LII
LIII
LIV
LV
PROLOGUE
Perhaps, in childhood, you a movie saw;
the title of said film, ‘twas Labyrinth.
It told of maiden and companions four,
and featured a beguiling goblin king.
Now thirty years have passed since its release –
in stature has its reputation grown;
so much, that this enchanting fantasy
is to another generation known.
This tale (the most-beloved of my life)
I ventured to encapsulate in verse,
a true love’s labour; sonnets fifty-five,
which now you, gentle reader, may rehearse,
commemorating film in poetry –
humbly, ‘tis dedicated to Bowie.
I
One evening, as the sky was growing dark,
a white owl flew (called, summoned, in some way?)
perched on an obelisk in lush green park,
beheld a girl rehearsing for a play.
The tale was of a quest across a maze
in search of babe, snatched by a goblin king
(who was, in truth, enamoured of the maid
and only stole the child at her bidding).
“Through dangers untold, hardships unnumbered,
I have fought here, to city of goblins,
for my will is as strong as yours –” stumbled,
referred then to her book, The Labyrinth .
Reciting “Over me, you have no power”
she heard a clock, which struck the seventh hour.
II
“Seven o’clock!” cried Sarah – ‘twas her name.
The play’s meanderings had made her late.
Tonight, she’d be in trouble yet again
with stepmother she’d slowly grown to hate.
She ran – her dog, loyal Merlin, by her side –
and headed home, through streets awash with rain.
The stepmother made Merlin stay outside
though Sarah tried to plead his case, in vain.
Outdoors, a storm was brewing – and inside;
for stepmother, assuming she’d no date,
planned to take Sarah’s father out that night.
Sarah was forced to baby-sit! Irate,
she stormed upstairs, exchanging fancy dress
for white blouse, blue jeans, and embroidered vest.
III
Deep in her room, a haven and a shrine,
she heard her parents leave, and missed them not.
Then, on a she